Legendary Evolution
by ImaginaryInk
Summary: Fuelled by anger, hatred, and jealousy; a demented scientist carries out an evil bioengineering experiment on the humans to create the ultimate species for world domination. Friends are captured and lovers separated. Identities forgotten and memories erased; but can the strength of love surpass the greatest battle between good and evil? Bulma X Vegeta. Rated M for language and ahem
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer 1: Song lyrics, countries, famous corporation names, and DB, DBZ, and GT characters and their outlooks don't belong to me. Else, I'd be rich and this story would be reaching your local theatres soon.**

**Disclaimer 2: I am not responsible for readers who'd inflict emotional/physical damage to themselves from memories triggered by reading the war scenes in this story. The scenes are purely fictional.**

**Things to keep note of:**

**- All characters are human, unless stated otherwise.**

******- **Name explanations in the bottom A/N.

**********- **xxxx before and after italicised passages indicates the start and end of a flashback.

**********- **Italicised passage indicates a dream or thought.

**********- **Picture Vegeta's military hair from his GT version.

**********- **Gokan is Raditz.

**********- **Many thanks to preciousjade and KimiruMai.

* * *

The sun peeked over the horizon, silently greeting the planet with another brand new day. Birds chirped in the distant and sang the tune of its kind while landed creatures scurried around hunting for breakfast within the Northern Forest. The heat of the steep-sided canyons subdued to the coldness of the night, but their stones begin to crack and harden as they prepared to be smothered by the warmth of the rising sun.

Lush fields spanned across the meadows and valleys, and hilly breezes whistled in the air as they blew against the mountain trees. Those who were awake marvelled at the beauty of another dawn, and those who weren't simply slept away, oblivious to it yet another morning.

But not all who are awake could cherish such a stunning vista unfolding. In the midst of these mountains an unapparent cave hid away in the deep, shrouded behind the shadows of taller mountains and trees. And within this cave lay dormant a highly-secured double doors made of heavy steel. Behind these doors lay an opening towards a winding walkway that led down to an underground science and engineering laboratory.

The basement lab was a huge room of grey and white, where thick wires attached to computers were connected to pods and tubes of all kinds. Little lights of sorts blinked from these pods while beeps resounded off from large screens and untouched tubes.

In the corner of the lab, an old scientist with shocking, white hair that fell just at the arc of his waist was dressed in a white, tattered lab coat. He was hunched over an operating table, tinkering with his latest prototype that was lying sprawled and unmoving across the cold metal surface. The old man muttered incoherently and furiously to the walls, reciting numerous formulas, calculations, and vulgar insults in uncontrollable tics.

He then straightened up and dull blue eyes twinkled. He released a throaty breath as his wrinkly hands caressed the body of the specimen he was working on. A sense of pride filled him and his lips curled into a malicious leer beneath his bushy, white moustache. Glazed-over eyes gleamed excitedly; he has done it. After 30 years of agonising wait and failures, he has finally solved the last piece to an extremely powerful and provocative puzzle to successfully genetically alter a full grown human.

Now all that he needed was a band of strong soldiers and fighters. Then slowly, he'd expand his army into a significant number to wreck havoc against the cities. And finally, he'd transform the entire human race and the world. Revenge against mankind would be sweet, if only to watch his arch enemy topple over and acknowledge him as the superior scientist. Soon, he would dominate and rule, and have them all at his feet as the population revamp into a whole new generation; a whole new species and breed with a new name. All who'd kneel before him, altered from human into a lethal species, will be known as… _the Saiyans_.

"It is time."

* * *

_**Meanwhile, in the outskirts of South City…**_

The afternoon sun shone through parted clouds, glaring down the terrains with full force heat and light. Down below, large crowds swamped the Martial Arts Temple with excitement, struggling for a closer spot to watch a band of fighters fight in the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament's final round. Cheers and boos resonated across the arena as two brothers faced one another in a sudden death showdown.

Son Goku, 23, and Son Gokan, 28, smirked and sneered at each other as they stood firmly still in the fighting ring. Stares and insults were exchanged as they prepared themselves to defeat the other, and to be the one to bring back the winning prize of 500,000 Zeni. The two orphaned brothers weren't in this for the money, but they shared a deep love for fighting. And even though they loved fighting more than anything, no broken bones or shattered noses could break the bond the two siblings shared, except when it came to food.

On the sidelines and in the shade sat their beacon of guide and hope, whose attention and interest for the final match was questionable. Master Roshi was said to be over three centuries old and, albeit frail-looking, was noted as the strongest fighter in the world. The crowd's cheers boomed and echoed throughout the arena as the camera zoomed in on the old man's face, reminding them that the next and final fight would be out of this world as it'd be led by the students of the ancient martial artist.

"Put him in the ground, Goku!" hollered a 20-year-old Mao Chi Chi, who was standing by her grandfather's, Master Roshi, side as she cheered in biased enthusiasm for her obvious romantic interest.

"Now, now, simmer down, sweetheart. Goku may not even win," said the old man as he watched his students behind the shade of his black sunglasses, causing his granddaughter to scoff at his remark.

"You're saying that just because you don't like Goku, Grandpa," Chi Chi retorted and folded her arms, "Besides, why do you care? Either one wins and you'd still get your 500,000 Zeni!"

The old man chuckled deviously, "I don't care, and this is the smartest idea yet. Eye on the prize, eye on the prize," his lack of enthusiasm for the match was proof of the assured confidence he has in either one of his pupils.

"Yea, I'm eyeing on my prize alright. Goku promised to take me out to dinner when he wins."

"_If_ he wins."

"_When_ he wins!" she corrected angrily. In that moment, the bell sounded to indicate the start of the match and Chi Chi shouted another lewd cheer to her beloved fighter, showing childish contempt to her least favourite martial arts sibling, "Kick his ass, Goku, till he can't sit for a month!"

"Your little girlfriend is so vulgar I bet she's got a really good mouth," Gokan taunted as he glanced once at Chi Chi and shrewdly back at his brother, smirking.

Goku frowned disapprovingly and lowered himself into his signature fighting stance, "Chi Chi's not like that. She's pure."

"Yea, I'll bet she is," Gokan replied as he resumed his own fighting stance, "Why don't we just cut the bullshit and I'll take her out to dinner since the only thing you'd be eating is my dust!" Then he pounced forward with his powerful right leg and Goku followed suit.

"Don't bet on this one," Goku said, shielding his face with a forearm as he took the brunt of Gokan's first punch and quipped, "She'd rather eat dust with me than dine with you," he jumped backwards, causing Gokan to grunt and charge towards him again.

"How sure are you, little brother?" Gokan asked as they exchanged a series of blows, "Maybe she'd prefer a real man over a whiney baby like you!" he goaded as he did a low, spinning sweep kick, openly enjoying teasing his kid brother.

"Pfft! Coming from the guy whose social calendar is practically non-existent," Goku dodged and shot back with a smirk of his own as he managed to land a punch on Gokan's jaw, "No wonder you only have dust to offer me!"

Gokan flipped backwards and landed on his feet, and then he pounced forward once more with a cry, "Aarrgh, mock me, will you?! I'll kill you, you little shit!" and Goku squealed with sick delight as he danced away.

As the fight played out nicely, the hot air shifted as tiny mechanical particles rigged with powerful explosives descended from the sky, and flew over and into the Martial Arts Temple in the form of fireflies. Inaudible buzzing of mechanical wings took flight towards the arena and honed in on the on-going match. Slowly, they lowered nearer and hovered in between the two strong fighters. The cheering crowds were oblivious to the mini intruders but a sharp Goku caught a glimpse of a bug with the corner of his eye. It was oddly shining like metal reflecting off the sun before it charged up and burned a bright red. Goku leapt away, but he didn't get far.

Explosion after explosion went off in the temple and chaos ensued. People in the stadium were caught in the shockwaves and the panicking crowd began to scatter in all directions in attempts to escape the blast. Master Roshi and Chi Chi themselves were pushed back to the far end of the building by the sheer force of the explosions.

Goku lied on the grass motionlessly and he felt numb, nearly paralysed. His eyes glazed over as he tried to regain consciousness and focus. The close proximity of the blasts hindered his hearing, and screams were heard but muffled as they drowned faintly in the back of his mind. He turned his head weakly to the side and saw Gokan's unconscious bloody body lying not too far from him. His hand shakily reached out to his brother, his torn lips mouthing his name before darkness consumed him.

The dust soon settled, revealing a ruined temple. Most people had already evacuated the area but those who stayed back were desperately tending to injured spectators and participants. The fighting ring was completely destroyed, leaving only broken boulders in its wake. Master Roshi and Chi Chi managed to come to and recover just minutes after the blast, and frantically went searching for Goku and Gokan within the wreckage.

A panicking Chi Chi buried her hands in the rubbles and wailed desperately for Goku while Master Roshi did the same to search for Gokan.

* * *

**_When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you  
When you're gone, the face I came to know is missing too  
When you're gone, the words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it okay  
I miss you_**

_**When You're Gone - Avril Lavigne**_

_**Somewhere in the Middle East…**_

Lt. Col. Vegeta Drosera, 28, sat amidst the testosterone-filled mess hall as he quietly ate his dinner with his trusted companion of ten years and possibly closest friend, 32-year-old Captain Nappa Brassica. The men had been stationed in the outskirts of Baghdad for nearly a year now, living off the remainder of their days in the military facility. The invasion was successful; they've won the war, and Baghdad fell. One week more to go and they could all finally return home.

"Lemme guess," the captain spoke with his mouth full, ignoring the disgusted sneer Vegeta was sending him, "She bought you another sports car to add to your collection."

"No."

"Another sniper?"

"No."

"I know!" the ruffian, towering soldier exclaimed excitedly and slowly said with a lecherous leer, "… head."

Vegeta lifted a brow and eyed Nappa cautiously, briefly wondering if the man was serious. Then he smirked and quipped, "Well, at least I'd be getting some, and more than that; unlike you who is going to return home to an empty bachelor pad in all your pathetic lonesome."

Knowing when he'd been beaten, Nappa simply frowned, rolled his eyes, and kept to himself. He finished his dinner quickly, not in the least amused. Vegeta merely enjoyed the silence, feeling triumphant once again as Nappa took his tray, grumbled under his breath, "I don't know what Bulma sees in you," and left.

Vegeta retreated back to his designated quarters after dinner and prepared for bed, not caring for another bout of celebration. That seemed to be the only thing his men ever thought of doing since home was just a week away.

He stood in the small bathroom by the tiny sink, splashing water to his face and toying with his boring, dull military haircut. He stared at his face, noticing the lines that were appearing beneath his eyes, and frowned. His gaze then lowered to his pectorals and mildly studied the distinctive lines of his dragon tattoo. The detailed scales patched against the swirly body of the reptile where its tail wound all the way back to his shoulder blades. He loved this piece of ink work.

The tap squeaked as he turned it off. He yanked a towel off the hook on the side wall and wiped his hands and face dry. As he patted his cheek and chin, he lowered his gaze to the rim of the sink and stared at his flat-band silver mixed with shimmering gold wedding ring. He hung the towel back on its hook, swiped the ring off the porcelain surface, and walked out of the bathroom.

Once in the room, he plunged into the edge of his single-bedding cot, pulling out the drawer of the night table and fished out a vidchip. He proceeded to lie on the bed, one hand turning the vidchip on while the other fingering his wedding band out of habit.

The device in his hand beeped and a pre-recorded visual came on, displaying a picture of a woman with wavy cerulean hair adjusting a fussy chubby baby with lavender hair on her lap. Vegeta smiled as he glued his eyes to the handheld monitor.

["Say hello to daddy, Trunks!" Bulma Leigh Briefs, 26, chirped through the screen with her hand holding their infant son's to give Vegeta a wave before flashing him a brilliant smile.

"How's my other baby? I'm sure you're writhing in agony without my exalted aura constantly gracing you," she remarked smugly and winked at her husband, "I'm doing fine, too. Trunks almost flipped over on his stomach today. He's growing up so fast, my gosh! Oh, I'm beginning to sound like my mother."]

Vegeta raised a brow at this, his lips curled up in a small smirk as he listened on to his wife's mindless ramblings. Oh, how he missed even that!

["Anyway, daddy and I managed to seal the 20 million Zeni project with Microsoft the other day. We threw a small celebration after that, you know, with CC employees and some of my old friends. They got along well with little Vegeta here. It was fun and the food was great as usual, but I wished you were here with us..." she trailed off with a sad smile, "... with me."]

Vegeta watched her sagged sadly and the urge to touch her grew. He took in a staggering breath and exhaled, attempting to crush the ever-growing longing but failing miserably when his infant son's chubby fingers reached out and grabbed the webcam. All Vegeta saw and heard were Trunks' slobbery toothless mouth as the boy gnawed on the device and Bulma's disgusted protests. He snorted and grinned at the spectacle his wife and son gave him.

Though he has watched this latest pre-recorded message millions of times, he still wished that he was actually there with them; to crush and mould his wife's little frame to his and to hold his son for the first time.

xxxx

_"Lieutenant, sir!" one of the soldiers approached and saluted Vegeta who was discussing battle strategies with his captain and squad in the meeting room._

_"Not right now, soldier. I'm busy."_

_"Phone call for you, sir?"_

_"Tell whoever it is that I'm no longer alive," Vegeta replied nonchalantly, not in the least bit interested as he continued to discuss battle plans. The men surrounding the table snickered under their hands._

_But the rookie was adamant, though slightly annoyed for being ignored twice. He pressed his lips into a straight and tried one last time, because if this didn't work, nothing else would._

_"Sir, I believe your father-in-law is on the line – something about you having a baby."_

_Vegeta, who was hunched over the table, straightened up very slowly and eyed the soldier in eerie silence. His face was expressionless, not revealing a single emotion though he knew better; inside he was swirling with explosive joy and apprehension. Then, he reacted in the most unexpected way. He stared at all of his comrades in the room one by one like he was in a trance, his stoic expression lost on him until Nappa spoke up._

_"Well, what are you waiting for, squirt? Go answer the phone!"_

_Vegeta blinked, snapped out of his stupor, and ran._

_Nappa snorted amusedly, "He's having a baby," and everyone else laughed out loud._

_"H'lo?"_

_"Vegeta, my boy! I've been trying to get through for a few hours now. Bulma went into labour and she's still in labour-"_

_"How is she?!"_

_"Well, she's trying really hard, though I think the whole floor now knows what kind of a bastard you are – 12 out of 10, and not a dime's worth."_

_Vegeta snorted and rolled his eyes, though a smirk was apparent on his face, "My guess? She's doing fine."_

"_I don't know, son, she seemed to be really drained, though I don't see many women giving birth on a daily basis, but of course, there was only Bunny and-" Dr. Briefs drifted off._

"_Dad!" Vegeta chided, cutting the doctor off, "We're talking about Bulma."_

"_Ah, yes, Bulma, well, she's been in there for nine hours now and- oh my God, I think I hear it!"_

_Vegeta pressed the phone against his ear till it hurt, his face scrunched up with determination as he strained to hear what he hoped to hear. But his father-in-law's excitement drowned all sounds out, "I can hear his cries! She did it, Vegeta!"_

_Upon hearing that, Vegeta released the breath he didn't know he was holding and leaned against the plaster wall, a sense of relief washed over him._

"_How is she?" he asked weakly as his heart thumped in his rib cage. He was afraid for Bulma, and ultimately afraid of receiving bad news._

"_She's fine," the doctor assured._

"_Are you sure?" Vegeta pressed worriedly._

"_Yes, I can see her through the porthole. They're putting the baby in her arms as we speak," Dr. Briefs reassured in a bubbly, light manner. No doubt, this was a happy day._

_Vegeta released another breath, closed his eyes, and nodded his head, "Good."_

"_What are you gonna name him, son? So I can let Bulma know."_

_The soldier paused as he mentally pieced the name he came up with to his son's face. And though he had no idea how the boy looked like at the moment, and judging from his gene pool, Vegeta was certain his son wouldn't be bad-looking._

_Once, when he'd complained that most nights were boring at the base, Bulma had given him the privilege to think up a name for their baby. He had been thinking and choosing long and hard for one ever since, and his final selection would no doubt fit his son's face perfectly._

"_Trunks," he murmured to himself, cleared his throat, and then firmly repeated, "His name is Trunks Sage Briefs-Drosera."_

"_Excellent choice of name!" Dr. Briefs commented proudly, mainly because the allusion of the boy's first name resembled his lineage._

_Vegeta nodded absent-mindedly as pride swirled within him for different reasons. At this point, his comrade caught his attention and signalled to him that there were duties waiting, "I gotta go. Tell Bulma that she did well."_

"_Of course. Anything else you want me to tell her, hmm?" his sentimental father-in-law subtly prompted._

_The young soldier did an eye-roll, but otherwise smirked, "Yes. Tell her that she can stop stuffing her face now that the baby is out."_

"_Brilliant," the doctor said knowingly._

_Then he added softly, "… and that I love her."_

xxxx

["- and so you see, it was a close call, we could have lost the contract because the guy just wouldn't give up. He was intimidating but we pulled through and counter-attacked him because I am a genius like that, aren't you just proud?!" Bulma humoured herself and Trunks began to whine and squirm like a worm in her lap. She very quietly hushed the boy and turned back to the screen. "I gotta run, baby. The lab needs my help these days, seems like they can't function without me," she stated and laughed lightly.

"But, you're coming home soon and we're so excited!" she beamed, one arm wounded around Trunks' chubby torso while the other reached out for the webcam. Very gently, her slender finger brushed longingly against the screen.

"I love you, Vegeta," she said adoringly and whispered, "Have a save journey home. We're waiting for you," her eyes lingered for a moment longer on the screen, somehow knowingly where to look as she stared deep into his eyes. Then she brought the camera to her lips and gave it a customary kiss. She brought it back up, smiled beautifully at her husband, winked, and the screen went black.]

There was no goodbye, for they would meet again.

Vegeta ran a finger slowly across the monitor the same time his wife kissed it. Watching the video was something that he did every night just to hear her voice before he went to bed. He took in a deep breath and returned the vidchip into the drawer, along with his wedding ring. It was habit that he didn't wear the band to sleep. Once the drawer was locked and secured, he turned the nightlight off and let sleep claim him.

The night air was warm and still; desert sands shifted and settled very subtly. Tower guards and surveillance spotlights combed the area within and beyond the base fences, catching nothing but dead weeds and distant barking of wandering stray dogs. Tiny mechanical bugs similar to the ones from the World Martial Arts Tournament buzzed inaudibly and flew through those fences, preset to head straight for the front yard of the installation.

Patrols on duty were oblivious to the midnight intruders as the rigged bugs hovered over the yard in a pattern pretty much similar to the World Martial Arts Tournament blast. The ring leader of the explosive troop beeped a bright red and the first of a string of explosions began, and all hell broke loose.

The siren blared throughout the base. Vegeta's eyes flew open and he shot out of bed, quickly reacting on reflex where years of hard training prepared him for sudden attacks. He slid his camo pants on and wore his combat boots, then snatched his rifle off the working desk and burst out of the room. Thick, heavy smoke greeted him as he dashed through the front yard and pushed against soldiers who were running amok in the field. He cocked his gun and aimed for the skies first, immediately targeting enemy bomber or attack aircrafts to shoot on sight.

Another explosion happened in the left far corner behind him, and he whipped around to analyse the situation. Something was wrong for there were no aircrafts. This was not an enemy intrusion but there were explosions everywhere. The blasts, they were being set off on the premise. This whole damned area was rigged. Those who were caught in the blast, got incinerated in them; and those who were near the blasts, were severely wounded.

Vegeta spun around and gripped the arm of the nearest soldier, "Captain Brassica, where is he?!"

The rookie turned to his left and the lieutenant followed his gaze. They located the captain barking orders around and Vegeta moved to approach him. Just as he did, another explosion went off several metres from Nappa. Time stood still as Vegeta watched his friend fell to his knees as the blast seared and burned off the side of the towering man's stomach.

Nappa turned to Vegeta and gave him one final, pleading look before he dropped to the ground. Vegeta yelled and ran towards him, throwing all precautions out the window. All he wanted to do at that moment was to drag Nappa to safety. But in that split second, another mechanical bug set off another blast not too far from him, and this time Vegeta got caught in it. He dodged and spun around pushing the rookie flat down to the ground as he took the brunt of the blow. The shockwaves were so great that the lieutenant and everyone within his vicinity were pushed back by its sheer impact.

Vegeta crashed into the nearest building, his head and back colliding violently with the walls within. He collapsed face down to the cold, concrete floor, his body already suffering from the blunt force. His rib bones were shattered and they punctured his lungs, and his limbs were twisted in inconceivable angles. He felt numb and paralysed all over; his focus blurred and foggy. He blinked several times and forced himself to reclaim consciousness, but the pain was too great and he groaned weakly.

His eyelids felt heavy and his breathing gradually became shallow. Incoherent and muffled shouting played in the background, sounding more and more distant as the seconds ticked. The room was spinning and he closed his eyes, welcoming the sudden coldness. He was getting sleepy.

Flashes of blue and lavender and a faint voice saying '_we're waiting for you_' were the last things on his mind before he finally succumbed to his injuries and seeped into the realm of darkness.

* * *

_**On Master Roshi's island…**_

The bodies of Son Goku and Son Gokan were never found. People speculated that they were blown to pieces and the vicious fire incinerated their corpses in the process. That was the only explanation the police and media could provide to the grieving family.

Two small, dark brown Chinese altars for the passing were laid down facing the ocean and metres away from the soft, crashing waves on the sandy shore. Chi Chi knelt solemnly and mourned behind them, her swollen, crying eyes fixated deeply on the one inscribed with a 'Son Goku' in gold paint.

Master Roshi stood on the far end of the island and stared out into the horizon, the grief in his eyes shielded only by the sheer layer of his sunglasses. Chi Chi's whimpers and sobs travelled through the waters, further breaking the old man's fragile heart. He loved the boys, really. In fact, out of all the students he's had under his wings, Goku had been his favourite.

Though the afternoon sun warmed his face, his heart has frozen on this devastating day. He glanced at his granddaughter and sighed heavily, shaking his head sadly before turning back to the sea. They were both so young, not reaching even the smallest fraction of his age.

Many students came to him, some left with hope, and many left with nothing. None of which he was particularly fond of. But Goku and Gokan came to him with hope, and they trained hard, nothing like his past students. It was truly a pity. There were many regrets in his 328 years of life and perhaps, not being able to tell Goku that he was proud of him was one of them.

* * *

**_I didn't get around to kiss you goodbye on the hand  
I wish that I could see you again  
I know that I can't_**

_**Slipped Away - Avril Lavigne**_

_**At Capsule Corporation…**_

The Briefs' household was a hurricane waiting to unfurl. Servant bots were being frenziedly demanded back and forth, phones were ringing off the hook, and paper and laptops were strewn on every table and surface they could find. Lawyers, investigators, and even psychotherapists were called forth to the house to calm the brewing storm.

It has been three days since the bombings and Bulma had been glued to the television ever since, anxiously watching news from all channels and refusing to eat. She tried contacting the military base and Vegeta's comrades, all of whom she knew, but failed to reach them each time. No one was answering; it was as if the telephone lines over there were cut off. Of course, they were stationed in the middle of nowhere. She even went as far as to use her powerful influence to scoop out something, though it wasn't much.

They speculated that there were 125 casualties and at least 87 deaths caused by the explosions, but no names were confirmed or revealed yet as the sweeping and search for survivors commenced. She was forced to wait; and every second was agonising.

By the fourth day, Bulma has had enough with the people in her house. She shooed them all away, including her parents and Trunks. So, in the quietness of the evening in a huge empty house, she found herself roaming through the hallways like a zombie, drowned in a dull, big t-shirt and three-quarter denim shorts. Her hair was loosely tied up in a messy ponytail, obvious dark circles formed beneath her eyes, and with no make-up on. In other words, she looked like hell. She was glad her parents had been so compliant in relieving her of Trunks and kept him away in their house until she was certain of Vegeta's safety.

The front doorbell rang and Bulma trudged towards it. She opened the door and gasped, her eyes widened at the sight of two of Vegeta's men. Her heart pounded in her rib cage as they stood by the door, removing their hats in greeting. Tears quickly formed in her eyes and she cupped her trembling lips to fight down the wail that threatened to escape. She could tell from the solemn expression on their faces that they were here to break the bad news that she had been dreading.

It was a wordless exchange as none were needed, save for a soft mutter of scripted commiseration. The first soldier handed her a dark olive green eight-point hat, which clearly belonged to Vegeta, and Bulma released a strangled sob as she numbly received it. Then, the second soldier took out a palm-sized envelope from his chest pocket and stepped forward. He eyed her sympathetically before lowering his gaze and sombrely passed it to her.

She took the package and crushed it in her palm, afraid to see what hid inside. But the need to know overpowered her fear and she opened it with trembling hands. Her fingers fished out a silver and gold wedding ring and she held it shakily. Her face scrunched up in wordless anguish and pain, and suddenly breathing was the hardest thing to do as she read the engraving on the inside loop that said, '_Remember Me_'. She clutched her aching chest, the envelope in her hand slipped through her fingers and fell to the ground, forgotten. It was clear as day that the wedding ring she held belonged to Vegeta.

Her husband was dead. Gone, and he wasn't going to come home, ever.

Bulma burst into tears and could no longer suppress her pain. She collapsed against the door frame and slid down hard upon her knees. She cried her heart out and wailed, unable to stop the burning pain that was crashing through her viciously like an incontrollable train wreck.

He was supposed to come home; supposed to be here with her in less than three short days to sweep her up into his strong arms and hold their baby for the first time. Now, he would never experience all that has been waiting dearly for him. How would she survive another day without him, knowing that she would never hear his voice whispering sweet words into her ears, feel his touch caressing her lovingly, or see him smiling back at her ever again?

Her eyes clenched tightly as she wailed uncontrollably, praying for the excruciating pain in her heart to just take her away to wherever Vegeta was, if only to see him one last time.

* * *

_**Wishing I could hear your voice again**_  
_**Knowing that I never would**_  
_**Dreaming of you won't help me to do**_  
_**All that you dreamed I could**_

_**Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again - Andrew Lloyd Webber**_

A separate military funeral honours was held by the week's end, paying tribute to the young and fallen Lt. Col. Vegeta Drosera. The marching band played a solemn note as the casket draped with a flag was heaved out of hearse. It was then placed onto the back of a horse carriage to be brought to the burial site. A volley salute was fired in the far end of the area and soft drum rolls filled the air.

The sky was gloomy after releasing a fleeting rain shower, a weather that perfectly reflected the sombre event. It was a sad, sad day for the Droseras, Briefs, and friends. Bulma stood on the side, donning a sleek black dress and matching black hat which veil covered her face and shielding her swollen eyes and sorrow from prying eyes. She numbly watched the procession as they lowered her husband's casket to the ground. Throughout the entire ceremony, she did not shed a single tear.

The service ended, and the young widow found herself standing before Vegeta's headstone, staring sightlessly at it while cradling her infant son protectively in her arms.

IN MEMORY OF

VEGETA DROSERA

LIEUTENANT COLONEL

LOVING HUSBAND

EAGER FATHER

1975 – 2003

The tombstone was made of sleek, black marble that separated itself from the rest by rank and social status. It was only fitting for a soldier and individual like Vegeta. But the haunting words of '_loving husband, eager father_' repeated in Bulma's mind over and over again like a broken record. They meant nothing to her.

Crisp, cold wind blew past mother and son, and Trunks made a noise. Bulma shushed the babe as gently she could; the once vibrant sparks in her eyes were now reduced to a sputtering flame.

She gazed at her child as if she had never noticed the strong resemblance between father and son before. Her heart sank and she laid her baby's head against her shoulders, patting his back in a tender motion to soothe him. Her eyes lingered listlessly at her husband's carved name, sweet memories of them and all the what-ifs and could-haves playing in her head.

Then someone decided to approach the mourning widow and child. Feet shuffled through the wet, manicured grass and stopped a little to the left behind her. Although Bulma felt that her moment of silence has been rudely invaded, she made no sound of it. Trunks merely watched the intruder over his mother's shoulder with curious eyes, gurgling and making spit bubbles at the man.

That's when the man decided to speak up and in a sympathetic tone, he said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Drosera."

A minute passed in silence, and Bulma spoke up for the first time in two days, her voice raspy and hoarse from crying too much, "This is an empty grave."

The man didn't know what to respond to that, so he wisely kept to himself. If it wasn't for the baby's distracting antics, the sight of the widow mourning her dead husband in a haunting manner in the cemetery would have made him cringe with fear.

"Do you think he's still alive?" she suddenly asked him, snapping him out of his ghastly reverie.

He fought to spit out an answer, "There were... explosions everywhere, ma'am. The men, most of them, they were incinerated. S-so, I think... I t-think no."

And if he thought the woman was haunting before, she was frighteningly angry now. Bulma whipped around and glared at him, causing him to take a step back. She pierced through him with eyes filled with blazing blue rage and spat, "You were there by his side, weren't you? That's why you're here. He saved you, didn't he?"

Shocked and speechless, the soldier did nothing but lowered his head and nodded solemnly. How did she know he was there, anyway? And what was she getting at? Oh, what did it matter? He was alive, and it was because of her husband.

"You shouldn't even be here," Bulma hissed, though her face softened as she turned to face the headstone again, "You should have been incinerated along with him," she stated hollowly. Then she turned back to him, this time with an unexplainable glint in her eyes, "But you're alive…"

"Whu-what?" the soldier stammered. Though he was clueless, he didn't miss the gears working in the woman's head.

Bulma turned around fully to give him a logical explanation, "Something happened in there, something sinister. They said there were no airplanes; none were recorded flying over the facility. But the explosions… the explosions happened on the inside, you should know. You admitted that you were there next to him, and you're alive because you were caught in the shockwaves, too, _not_ the blast. If they couldn't find Vegeta, they shouldn't be able to find you. But you're alive," she repeated, "... and that means Vegeta is, too."

The man stammered, his eyes darting from side to side as he began to understand her theory. It seemed plausible, but how did one explain his superior's disappearance?

"I have to find him," was all she said as she determinedly stormed away, leaving the man alone to register and contemplate all that she said.

"Mrs. Drosera, wait! Please, wait!" he ran after her, catching her just as soon as she stepped foot in her waiting car.

Bulma adjusted Trunks in her arms, and looked at the man expectantly.

"What are you going to do?" he asked as the need to understand and help this woman gnawed at his conscience. But Bulma, thinking that he was here to stop her from finding her husband, took offence and refuted.

"I don't care who you are, but you don't know who you're dealing with. I am going to find my husband, and no one is going to stop me, certainly not you. I don't need your opinions on this and I do not need your sympathy. So go on home, live your life, and move on," then she turned to her chauffeur to tell him to drive home. She boarded the vehicle but the stubborn man stopped her before she could close the door.

"Ma,am, I was there beside the lieutenant," he stammered as his lips trembled. He looked as if he was about to break down, "He saved me, and if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be standing here. I could have lost a limb or lying down in a coma right now, or worse, I could have died. It should have been me in that ground, not him," he shook as he pointed to Vegeta's grave, "So, please…" he pleaded weakly through clenched teeth, his eyes now blurry with tears of suppressed anger, "Let me help you."

Bulma stared at the broken man with a tinge of gratitude and remorse in her eyes. She understood why he felt compelled to help, and regretted accusing him of trying to stop her. She turned away from him to place Trunks in his car seat and the man lowered his head dejectedly, thinking that she had refused him. She turned back to the man and saw his face scrunched up with guilt and disappointment. If he was willing to help her, who was she to deny a man's need for redemption? Her features then softened and she asked him softly, "What is your name, soldier?"

The rookie looked up at her, a tinge of hope radiating off him, "Krillin... My name is Krillin."

* * *

**3 years later, in a homely apartment unit within the Gero ****Underground Science and Engineering Laboratory (GUSEL)…**

_Sweat and soft moans filled the air, licking his skin like a second layer as he rocked his hips passionately into the blue-haired beauty beneath him. Her slender fingers grasped the back of his flame hairdo and brought his face down to hers, pulling his hot, inviting lips into a deep kiss. He thrust forward, riding her for as long as he could to build up the flames that were begging to be set ablaze. His release was nearing, and so was hers. A rough hand found her frail fingers and he clutched them tightly. He shut his eyes, thrust into her one last time and spilled his seeds deep into her core._

"_Vegeta," she moaned breathlessly. He opened his eyes and though the rest of her face was shrouded in the shadows like always, he didn't miss her sweet, brilliant smile. It was a smile that was meant for him, and his heart swelled with emotions that only she could instil._

His eyes flew open to the sight of white ceilings. He inhaled sharply, beads of sweat rolled down his temples and disappeared into the pillow under his head. There was that recurring dream again. He shut his eyes and steadied his breathing. Once again he tried to remember the face of the woman who only appeared in his subconscious realm, but each time he did, he failed.

Every night he thought he'd seen her face but darkness would always come and wash her features away before he could get a glimpse. And each time, she would call out for this Vegeta guy and he would feel a surge of warmth and a pleasant emotion burst within him. Somehow, he felt strongly for this faceless woman, even though she called him by another man's name. But… _who is this Vegeta, anyway?_, he always wondered.

He frowned and reopened his eyes, then turned to his left as he watched the back of his wife sleeping soundly next to him. She has blonde hair but the woman in his dream has blue, a disturbingly stark contrast; he was always fond of the colour blue. His wife has a flat, steely voice but the woman in his dream has a voice so soft and silvery; just like honey and he could almost taste it every time she spoke. What's more, his wife wouldn't touch him like how the blue-haired woman did in his dream. Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time that happened, maybe never as far as he could remember; maybe once upon a lifetime ago.

He snorted lightly at that thought, thinking that it was plausible judging by how cold his wife portrayed herself to be. He ran his fingers through his flame-like hair and breathed deeply. Then he turned to his side with his back facing hers and shut his eyes as he prepared to go back to sleep. Every night, the woman would come to him in his dream; every night, he'd wake up in perspiration and wanting more of that dream, of her; and every night, he looked forward to seeing that faceless, blue-haired woman again.

* * *

**I know what you're thinking, but don't let the last scene squash all of your hopes for a good BV story. I don't disappoint.**

**********- **Vegeta Drosera: Drosera capensis – a carnivorous plant.

**********- **Nappa Brassica: Nappa cabbage (Brassica rapa subspecies of pekinensis) – celery cabbage

**********- **Trunks Sage: Salvia officinalis – an evergreen sub-shrub with woody stems, greyish leaves, and blue to purplish flowers.

**I tried to follow the military funeral procession as closely as I could. I mean no disrespect if the steps wrongly portrayed.**

**Sorry if you spotted mistakes, it's 2am here and I'm tired. This is the first human Vegeta I wrote and I hope you enjoyed it. But do tell me what you think! Reviewsss!**

**Btw, the name 'Vegeta Drosera' as a whole, belongs to me. And I'm proud to call it mine *sniff*. T_T**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed. I'm glad you liked this story and hope you will continue reading it as I will continue posting more chapters!**

**This is only the second chapter, and I'll be introducing some of the characters that aren't BV, which is very important to the story. There'll be a slight BV, but please be patient for more BV moments. I promise that they will come in a form of a tsunami very soon!**

**Note: I changed Gero's plans from 15 to 30 years. I'm sorry that I suck at math.**

**So, enjoy this chappie!**

* * *

"Prince, wake up," a soft hand gently jostled the sleeping man on the bed, "You're late."

The flame-haired man lazily popped an eye open and glared at the digital clock on the bedside table with half-hooded lid. It read 8.34am and he groaned, burying his face deeper into the plush pillow. He lied still for another minute or two, revelling in the sweltering remnants of his latest dream. Then he pushed himself up as he yawned, and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He rubbed the sleep off his face and forced himself to get off the bed. He dreaded going to the lab, and most of all, he dreaded seeing his 'boss'.

"Still not ready?"

Prince's wife's steely, monotonous voice rang through his head and he nodded absentmindedly, not really paying her any attention, as he trudged into the bathroom. Ten minutes later he emerged fresh and in his work clothes, though he still held an aggravated demeanour. He donned a pair of black slacks and a matching long-sleeved button-down black shirt that fitted his slim v-shape waist. His sleeves were neatly folded, reaching just at the nook of his elbow and showing off the muscular bulges of his biceps and exposed forearms.

He was well built and packed with muscles all over, nothing a few hours of training during the day wouldn't do to pump up those abs, chest, arms, and calves. He walked to the body-length mirror in the hallway and toyed with his blonde flame-like hair; it was so blonde, one would think that it wasn't natural. Well, it was natural. He may have accepted his hair colour and would not change it, but for some reason he'd prefer it if it was a dark, rusty brown.

His gaze shifted to his eyes and he frowned. They were glazed over with slightly pale corneas overlapping deep teal-coloured irises. He looked haunting yet menacing at the same time. _Menacingly haunting, or hauntingly menacing_, he thought. His wife walked up to him and he watched her through the mirror as she straightened her designer blazer and skirt. She was always fond of fashion and was very particular in her image. She carried herself well in public; Prince would give her that.

His wife, Andrea Etteen.

Her straight, shimmering blonde hair fell just above her shoulders, cupping her sharp features in a tasteful way. Her slanted eyes revealed a pair of electric sky blue orbs that seemed too unnatural when one stared for too long, even for Prince. She was a beautiful woman, no doubt; pretty face, slim waist, long legs, and fair skin. Any man would crawl and beg for her to spare him a glance.

_Any man_.

So why wasn't Prince feeling the same way as any other man would where his wife was concerned? He shrugged on his lab coat as he looked into Andrea's eyes through the mirror. She caught his gaze, pushed her hair behind her ear, and turned to face him to adjust his collar. As they stood toe to toe, Prince looked down at her face and wondered if she would ever react to his touches.

So he sampled a kiss.

He pinched her sharp chin between his thumb and forefinger, and lifted her head as he lowered his to capture her lips in an unexpected kiss. He closed his eyes as their mouths touched and moved against her lips for a few seconds. A part of him mildly hoped that she would respond to his gestures just like how the woman in his dream did, but another part screamed at him to throw this farce of a loveless marriage that lacked intimacy and communication out the window.

How the hell did he even end up with her? Three years ago, he was only told about the lab explosion they'd been involved in, which left him with a long, deep gash of a scar across his chest, and the brain injury that resulted in mild amnesia. At that time, he didn't remember the explosion, he didn't remember the pain, and he most certainly didn't remember Andrea.

But here she was. She helped him get back up and aided him in the last three years. He supposed he should be grateful, but he could never shake off the feeling that she was only there for obligation's sake, as the woman who lived in his house and nothing more. Perhaps he didn't treat her well enough before the blast; perhaps that explained why she was so cold all the time.

"What are you doing?" she questioned as he released her, her blue eyes piercing deep into his pale, teal ones.

He raised a brow, not at all surprised by her reaction, and grumbled under his breath, "Can't kiss my wife?" Annoyed, he turned to walk towards the kitchen for his staple kick-starter.

"You're going to be late. You know that _he_ doesn't like it when you're late."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, and I don't give a fuck about what_ he _likes or doesn't."

Andrea ignored his childish complaint, picked up her work briefcase from the living room work desk, and walked past him.

"Don't wait up for me," she casually threw over her shoulder as she walked out the door. She turned left and headed towards the East Wing for the weapon laboratory.

"Don't plan to," he raised his voice a little, not caring if she heard him or not.

_Is this what marriage is all about?_ He thought to himself agitatedly. There must be some way to escape this dysfunctional relationship. He wasn't even sure if he was capable of love, but he sure didn't feel for this woman. And this realisation was becoming clearer and more unbearable by the day; his dreams of blue and wanting more of it didn't help either.

Once in the kitchen, he snatched his coffee mug off the top shelf of a cabinet. He placed the cup none too gently beneath the mouth of the coffee machine and tapped on the start button in a frustrated manner. He felt suffocated; trapped. He needed something more. He needed to _sleep_ to escape this worthless reality and seep into a blissful _dream_.

He leaned his back on the counter and sipped on his coffee like every other morning, appreciating its taste. Coffee was something that he relished in and one cup a day was enough for him. It was a like which his estranged wife didn't share with him, among many other likes of his. Coffee always calmed him down and have an effect on him; an effect where he felt like he's been whisked away to greener pastures, and he welcomed it even if it lasted only for that brief moment of consumption.

Prince delayed his morning for as long as he could before he finally decided to finish that cuppa. Once he was done, he left his mug in the sink and went towards the living room. It was time he got this day going and over with. So he went out the door, locked it, and turned right for the West Wing where the main laboratory resided.

* * *

Dr. Gero was hunched over another one of his many pet experiments as Prince walked in.

"Morning, doctor," Prince greeted flatly. It was merely a show of mock subordination. After all, he was only here to remotely assist the scientist. Not many people possessed the divine opportunity to do so, much to his misfortune.

"Late. 6 minutes and 13 seconds late, and another 5 more seconds as we speak. Late."

The rant went in an ear and out the other as Prince settled in at his desk. His crazy boss scientist was always grumbling about something; this was just same shit, different day.

"Malfunctioning!" Dr. Gero spat, not in the least interested in Prince's presence.

But that wasn't the case for the flame-haired man. He wasn't sure what his boss meant by _malfunctioning_, but he always had this fleeting feeling that it was in reference to him being an experiment that turned out wrong. Prince would always be on edge when it came to the old man; something about having the power to _shut him down_ permanently made him tremble in… was it fear? No, it was unadulterated anger.

_No one controlled him._

When he began to convince himself that he felt suffocated and trapped, it didn't limit only to his joke of a marriage. The main cause of it all was this demented old man who seemed to have a sick and twisted fascination for his _welfare_ – his conditioning, his mental, and how he led his life. When he'd awakened from his _coma_, he was told that Dr. Gero was the one who brought him and his wife out of it. As far as he knew, they both worked for this man, and after the cell regeneration processes, their lives were henceforth _indebted_ to him by default.

It was only months later that he found out exactly how they were indebted to the lunatic.

While his wife came out nearly unscathed save for a mild concussion, Gero _kindly_ explained to him that he was severely injured and barely alive after the explosion, and the only reason he still breathed was because the scientist had fixed him through cell regeneration processes. That explained how his body was still in one piece, and not a hairline crack on him.

But when Prince asked about the deep gash across his chest, the scientist finally showed his true colours by admitting that in order for him repay his debt, he would have to endure a life of servitude to the old man, lest be _terminated_.

When pressed further, the old man lightly traced the tip of his wrinkly finger over his scar and maliciously told him that not only was he not human anymore, but he and every other human being who underwent the same process were now known as _Saiyans_ and were indefinitely bounded to him in every way. These people were mostly victims of blunt force, explosions, accidents, and so forth.

The old man then laid his cards on the table, revealing that they were all helplessly controlled by bomb implants firmly attached to the tissues next to their hearts, where a mere kill switch (or a shut-down remote with one red button) would permanently bring an end to their existence. And by ending their lives, he meant exploding them into little pieces.

But there was always a '_but' _to every malevolent act – _"But as long as you do my every bidding like a good, little subordinate, I will allow you to live longer. Don't forget that my old fingers shake when I get… excited."_

Needless to say, that did not bode well with the young man. But it was out of his control, and was there any other choice?

"How is Number 18, Prince?" Dr. Gero asked, his skeletal fingers twirled the tip of his white, bushy moustache as he tampered with his experiment.

Prince narrowed his eyes, "Her name is Andrea."

"I'll call her whatever I want!" the scientist whirled on his chair and glared at the young man, but Prince held his ground.

"She's my wife-"

"_She_, and _you_, and _everyone_ who works in my organisation _belong_ to me!" the old man roared irately, smacking his hand on the table and hissed his name in a low growl, "Don't you forget that… _Prince_."

Prince merely glared at his superior, but otherwise said nothing. Even though he wasn't exactly fond of his spouse, that didn't mean other people was allowed to slander what was considered his. Plus, he hated this man with a passion. He was boiling and his eyes fleetingly flashed a bright blue but he blinked and contained himself, then turned and sat down at his place as he silently fed his anger with thoughts of bloodshed. He wished he was out there now destroying buildings, lives, and stuff.

"Take these," Dr. Gero said as he shoved two large glass crates of syringes filled with murky blue substances into his hands, "Inject them into Batches 57 and 58 in Lab 13, then record their vitals and send me a full report by the day's end. They should be completed and ripe come dawn," then his pale, grey eyes gave him a judgemental once-over, taking in his presence for the first time that morning, "You're looking _soft_," he sneered and remarked like a nagging old man, "See to it that you put in an extra hour into your training. I don't like _weaknesses_."

Prince scowled at his words, then stared sightlessly at the crates in his hand; the impulse to crush them and feel the glass shatter and prick his flesh urged him. _He was not weak_.

"You are my Number 1, Prince, and I do not appreciate defiance from you," the scientist said quietly as he eyed him. All signs of his earlier irritation were now gone and replaced with pride; but it was not the kind of pride where someone was proud of another being. It was pride for an egoistic sense of self-achievement. "I don't like _failures_, too."

The younger man rolled his eyes and turned to walk out of the lab, on his way to do his boss' bidding. Just before he rounded the corner, the old man's croaky voice called him, "And Prince?"

Prince halted by the doorframe and threw an annoyed expectant glance over his shoulder.

"Do see me after work. I have _another_ _task_ for you."

* * *

After 30 long years wasted on countless of researches, trials, and tribulations in getting the numbers and equations right, he has finally triumphed, therefore making him the superior scientist by default. Yes, being on top sounded so sweet, but not as sweet as the revenge that has been brewing and was now waiting to be unleashed upon his arch rival and nemesis, Dr. Bohkxiérre Briefs.

'_Briefs'_, Dr. Gero sneered at the thought of his sworn enemy. That name left a foul aftertaste in his mouth and hurt his brain. It was a name that has been haunting him his entire life.

He remembered the first time he felt an indescribable hate for the man, and that same hatred has only manifested into something more deadly as the years rolled by. It dated back to the days when he was a student in the famous West City Institute of Science and Technology. It was his first year, and as a young and ambitious lad, he was set off to learn and absorb all that he could.

He was a brilliant child and he knew this very well, therefore he took every advantage out of his capabilities. His dreams of changing the world and being the new face of modern day science drove him to great heights. And with his one-track mindedness, he'd do almost anything to achieve it. But he needed to attain the right education; he needed accolades and world-class recognition.

Gero's father was a great man himself, a prodigy of science and an inspiration for the lad. But life has its surprises. When Gero's father fell victim to an incurable deadly cancer and passed on in less than three months later, the boy lost himself. His father's assets and his inheritance were all confiscated by the Government the following week, due to funding debts and many pending experiments. He was then thrown out into the streets to fend for himself, alone and orphaned at the tender age of 15.

The teenage Gero accepted it as his misfortune in life; that whatever happened to him was fated and there was nothing he could do to change it. But there was one thing he could do, and that was to change the world for the better. Even though the Government has taken away all that belonged to him, they could never take away his genius. And he told himself that he would never let another child suffer what he has suffered.

And so, he began to build his dream. After his father succumbed to the cancer, he held on to the vision of genetically altering man in order to create the ultimate human being where diseases, cancers, the ever-long waiting list of organ transplant, the terminally ill, and early deaths would be unheard of. He wanted to build a world free of ailments and quietuses. And to achieve this, he needed support and large funding.

That was when he met Bohkxiérre Briefs at the institute at the age of 22; a friend cum foe, much to his dismay.

Due to their similar level of high intelligence, Gero and Briefs quickly became close acquaintances, and eventually friends. They shared the same interests, ideas, and vision, and they'd go beyond their limitations using their abilities to achieve their goal together; to make the world a better place.

Then their trump card happened along the way, and opportunities came flowing in. Both geniuses were given a separate one-year long project where they'd have to each invent and provide the world with a change; with an impact so strong that it'd penetrate the market with a bang and make a difference to society and mankind.

This was Gero's chance to prove his bioengineering theory; to prove to the world that they could all be liberated from ill health. Briefs, however, had other plans. Unlike Gero, Briefs was gifted with a business sense, and his ingenious invention of the Capsules made the larger impact between them. He'd won the Nobel Prize and the people's interest when he presented his palm-sized invention and awed the audience, while Gero's ideology of genetic engineering via animal test subjects was shunned and deemed immoral.

He watched dejectedly on the side as Briefs received his award. His lavender-haired friend did not even approach him to offer consolation but he was happy for Briefs, excited even, and would have congratulated him sincerely on a job well done. But when his long-term crush, Bunny Ditzy, rushed past him and straight into the arms of his friend, Gero felt like his entire world crumbled down and beyond the pits of hell. He choked at the sight and backed away from the auditorium. He turned and ran. He ran and he never looked back.

His mother walked out on his father when he was still a babe. His father abandoned him in this cruel world, leaving him to face a Government that stole everything from him and threw him into the streets. And just as he thought he has found salvation in the only person he thought he could trust, said person turned his back on him and mercilessly took away more than his pride. He had taken his heart, crushed it, watched him bleed, and left him to die.

But his day would come, and it was nearing. Ever since then, he would tell himself, _'To hell with wanting to better the world, because people would always fuck you in the ass regardless, even after you trusted them with your back turned.'_

Capsule Corporation may have dominated the world's market today, but soon, Gero and his name would rise higher than Bohkxiérre Briefs and dominate not just the world's market, but the entire world. But first, he would have to strike him where it hurt. He began with his brave and famous son-in-law, Vegeta Drosera, who served to be the perfect candidate for his project, then he'd slowly work his way up the family list. And once he has seized the most powerful man in science history, the world would eventually be his.

Revenge would be sweet.

Prince, also known as Number 1, was a Level 2 hybrid. He has always been Gero's favourite and was his first successful alteration after countless of failed ones. The changes in him were so vast and positive they pleased the doctor greatly. The soldier was a heap of mangled limbs, broken bones, and barely alive when he brought him in. But the young man reacted to the mutation serum made of animal and alien DNAs just as he had wanted it. And though Prince has his individual flaws, they weren't the biggest of his worries. He was thus far the strongest and most powerful among the rest of his subjects.

He branded these hybrids as the Saiyans, which numberings went according to the time of their creation, and their levels were determined by their outlooks and strengths. Once altered, they eventually woke up and were unknowingly given new identities, new memories, pseudo families if needed (especially to breed genuine hybrids), food, and shelter; all under the roof of his enormous underground laboratory.

It has been three years since he brought the first batch of human subjects in. Three years later today, and while the later batches reacted better and more fluidly with the newer and improved mutation serum, they were not as strong as the initial batch. They were mostly categorised as Level 1 hybrids.

Dr. Gero snapped out of his reverie and without a thought, left the experiment he was working on. After making sure that he was alone, he walked towards the deeper end of the room and stopped by a locked wall cabinet containing test tubes. He opened it and looked around to be sure that no one was around before pulling down one of the dummy tubes.

A hidden door slid open quietly on his right and once more, he checked to see if anyone saw him, and then slid into the room undetected. He quickly pressed the close-door button on the wall and continued his journey down the narrow metal staircase.

Planted in the middle of the medium-size hidden lab was a control console, and before it was a pod larger than the ones outside that perched upon a raised platform. The test pod was filled with a clear, green substance that resembled the sewer's fluid muck. Within the liquid floated an unconscious man and Gero grinned proudly at the sight of him.

Multiple transfusion tubes were stuck all over the man's skin and were continuously feeding a higher grade of mutation serum into his body. When the time came to wreak hell to the world, Gero would unleash his deadliest, most lethal subject upon mankind. The scientist's grin broadened into a malicious leer, and his grey eyes gleamed with a sadistic, evil glint. Fixated upon his ultimate creation with a psychotic fascination, Gero began to snicker and chuckle, which then turned into cackles that resounded off the metal walls of the confined room.

In time, he would capture and alter more humans to expand his lethal army. Soon, he would have the whole world bowing at his feet, and that would show Briefs and all who opposed him in the past that he would _always_ be the better scientist.

* * *

_**You used to captivate me by your resonating light  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind  
Your face; it haunts my once pleasant dreams  
Your voice; it chased away all the sanity in me  
**__**These wounds won't seem to heal**__**  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase**_

_**My Immortal - Evanescence**_

_**Meanwhile, at a coffee shop across the street from the 5-star Eastern Palace Hotel in Central East City…**_

"_One cup a day. No more, no less."_

The words of her husband, then boyfriend at the time he said it, played in her mind. It was a promise she made to him when he'd persuasively enforced it upon her, purposely leaving her with no choice but to accept it. Bulma would recite it like an age-old poem whenever she indulged the caffeinated drink, and she has kept her word till this day.

She sat alone in the local coffee shop, and through the foggy glass window, watched the blur of pedestrians flash by and going on about their daily lives. The rain drizzled and pattered lightly against the gravel walkway with abandon; some people had their umbrellas up, some braved through them.

She sighed softly. Her hands cupped her hot cup of coffee, nursing it till it was simmered down to a lukewarm lip temperature. She loved the heat in her hands. She loved wasting the hours away in a café during rainy days as she'd free herself from her family, friends, and technology. She would sit next to the window and watch life go by, and let her mind wander.

It was days like this that made her smile; it was days like this that made her _remember_.

With her hectic schedule as Capsule Corporation's newly elected president, this was the only moment she could lose herself completely and bring herself back to the past; to think about Vegeta and to remember all the wonderful moments that they've created in their short time together. Sometimes she would even make up conversations with him in her head, making it seem as though he was really there with her. As crazy as that sounded, it was the only way she knew how to keep herself sane and to keep him alive in her.

She stared into the sky and her eyes traced the East City Trade Centre, the tallest building in the vicinity; she even caught glimpses of carefree birds flying by in the rain and a twinge of envy coursed through her; unlike her, they were free of problems, worries, and reality. This morning's overcast bestowed the city with a gloomy ambience, but it was not an unwelcoming one. She exhaled slowly and frowned.

It looked like the heavens were crying.

Bulma looked away and lifted the cup to her lips. She blew softly at the liquid and took a slow sip, sampling the heat. She closed her eyes in the process to savour the auburn roast swirling on her tongue. It was good coffee, and she gave a small smile of approval.

'_Vegeta would have loved this'_, she thought sadly and reopen her baby blue eyes.

It has been three long years since her husband's disappearance. Though he has been classified as dead, Bulma knew that he was still alive and somewhere out there living a life of not knowing his true identity. She has heard of many abduction cases where identities were changed and memories erased, so she safely assumed this theory to be true and held onto it. That would explain why Vegeta has not called, much less returned to her.

But as the years rolled by, hope was beginning to dwindle, if only a little, and the truths and facts that she knew were becoming questionable. She looked hard for him and has never stopped looking, more determined than she had ever been. But even the most stubborn of doggedness would wane with time.

Every night she'd return to her huge empty bedroom yielding no desirable results; not even a trace. She'd crawl into her king-size bed and lie on her side of the large bedding, facing the part of the mattress that was made up. Her hands would trace longingly on the pillow that has not been slept on, and she would hug it tightly as she inhaled the fading familiar scent of her husband. Her eyes would linger sadly on the empty surface and she'd imagine Vegeta lying next to her, sleeping and snoring lightly or looking back at her with sleepy eyes and a lazy, lopsided smile.

Her heart would squeeze and break, and she would quietly cry herself to sleep because she knew they were only fabrications of her deluded mind and desperate heart, nothing more.

Her watch beeped, pulling her back to reality. She hated cutting her _moment with Vegeta_ short, but it was time for another demonstration at the Eastern Palace Hotel. She dreaded the biannual science convention that Capsule Corporation hosted. They consisted of long hours of workshops and presentations pertaining to the latest updates and products of science and technology.

This was her life now. For the past three years, she drowned herself with work in the day and spent her evenings with her three-year old son. And by nightfall, she wasted her hours away for Vegeta, searching and thinking about him until she succumbed to sleep.

Many people has told her to give up, that Vegeta wasn't going to come back and to just accept the fact that he has passed on; that she has to move on. But anyone who knew Bulma personally would know that while she could settle on being a responsible businesswoman, dedicated mother, and an ever-loving wife, she could and would never accept the fact that her husband was dead because the truth is still out there.

And without a doubt in her bones, she was sure that for as long as she lived, she would find it, and she would find him.

* * *

The North Wing of the underground lab has a vast perimeter with ceilings that spanned up to nearly 10 floors or as high as the underground height permitted.

Prince walked through the dark winding walkways, the walls and floors illuminated only by a few light panels every 20 metres. He stopped by a large double door made of metal and swiped his authorised tag across the security panel. It beeped with a green light and he entered the cold, wide room.

He stood by the doorway and the automatic doors slid close behind him with a swoosh sound. He studied his surroundings and slightly cringed at the sight. This was a room of death and creation, all in one place.

The death of the humans and the rise of a new species; just like himself.

Then he approached the first batch of 50 humans on his right and studied their languid forms floating in the test pods. He sneered at the sight of the fermentation but otherwise proceeded with his duties. Carefully opening the glass crates, he took out the syringes and one by one placed the syringes filled with large serum dosages through each and every pod's fluid port.

Once all 100 syringes were in place, he went to the control panels at the console and pulled down the lever. He stood by and watched as the fluids began to stream into their systems through the little hoses that were plastered and connected to the bodies.

He briefly wondered how these _new_ Saiyans would turn out to be like. If they were anything like him, they'd be strong and would stand to be good sparring partners. If not, he needed punching bags anyway. He mused as he thought about the kind of powers these new counterparts would attain. His own powers were great and he was well aware of it, what with being a Level 2. Flying and summoning energy attacks were child's play, ever since he had learned a new trick of his own.

Even the _good, old_ doctor was unaware of his new ability. He wouldn't tell him anyway.

After learning that he has been turned into a Saiyan and was virtually tied to an invisible ticking leash, Prince was not the happiest camper around. He was brought back to the house, where he learned that he was married and has a live-in wife who was nearly good for nothing to him. She tried aiding in ways she knew, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was struggling with her own alteration as well. Though Prince wasn't sure if she was even aware of it.

In the following year, he became more and more adamant in taking control of his own condition. He slowly came to, discovered his own strengths and weaknesses, and exploited them. He found out that he could fly and that he was able to summon power from within him. Then on coincidence during a hard struggle in charging his energy, he discovered that all Saiyans were able to call forth and retract their tails. So, that had him thinking that maybe his abilities were endless.

He did his own research without the doctor or his wife's knowledge. He attained information about his Saiyan profile, and out of curiosity, tried to fish for his human profile but to no avail. It didn't matter, he thought, as he was much stronger than a normal human being. He learned that the creation of the Saiyans stemmed from a combination of various animal and alien DNAs, melded together in a form of a serum to be injected into test subjects, thus regenerating cells and at the same time, mutating them and making them stronger.

Those were facts that he already knew.

But what captured his attention were the general personality traits stated in his profile. According to what Gero has penned, the Saiyans were supposed to be devoid of feelings and remorse, making them the perfect killing machines.

That probably explained his wife's and some of his counterparts' distant, cold, and aloof attitude. But that didn't explain the times when he felt like he was a walking pressure cooker with a short fuse ready to light up and explode with a dichotomy of emotions between rage and compassion.

He was aware of his constant battle between right and wrong, but he would never allow them to surface to the top for as long as he could help it. And he would never reveal such weaknesses to anyone else.

So he read on. It seemed that Gero has a keen interest in full moons, which only appeared twice a year. But in the year he was there, the old man has never mentioned them. It didn't bother him much, but he would spend his time dwelling over the possibilities that his energy could be connected to the Earth's satellite.

And so one day, after much research about the moon and what it was made of, he subconsciously formed energy balls in his hand as he brooded over the matter. He swirled them around his palm and fingers, and due to his frustrations his powers fluctuated and he involuntarily harnessed another kind of energy. It gave him a mild burn and he quickly dissipated it. Then it dawned on him that he was capable in summoning his energy in different ways, and that fact alone has broadened his advantages. Who knew, perhaps one day and with enough power, he could even _evolve_.

A smirk graced his face at this startling revelation and he got to work. Each night, he'd meditate and hone his skills, and one night, he finally did it.

He created an artificial moon, with similar solar powers to the real thing. It was small in size; not exactly the kind of moon one expected but it would have to do. When he'd first created it, the ball pulled him in. He stared fixatedly at it and felt a tidal wave of electrical jolts slide down his spine and to the tip of his tailbone. He felt his irises dilate and his heart began to race as adrenaline and blood clashed pumped through him like a tsunami. But like a plugged dam with no proper outlet, his energy continued to rise higher and higher till it hurt and he felt like he could implode. So he quickly squished the solar ball away.

He perspired heavily and found himself lying on his side, cringing in pain. He took in deep breaths and mulled over what just happened. The effects of the solar ball were too much and he knew that if given more time, he would be able to control that overwhelming power that was begging to be unleashed. He grinned and chuckled. It was a power he had never felt before. It felt great. He could only imagine how it'd be when he could finally release it.

Naturally, he kept this little secret from his wife, his comrades, and especially the old man. But the rest of his counterparts weren't as guarded as he was. He learned that some of them discovered their own signature skills as well. For instance, one has telekinesis, an exercise of an occult power and energy manipulation to move objects. The other was able to teleport to just about anywhere by placing two fingers on his forehead; that idiot even gave it a name and called it 'Instant Transmission'.

These small little details piqued Prince's interests and while he would never divulge his own secret, he was determined to learn their powers. Call it selfish or greed, but for some reason, Prince knew that this was a dog-eat-dog world, and the strongest shall triumph while the weakest shall fall.

* * *

Prince went searching for Dr. Gero and found him at the peak of one of the mountains just above the underground lab. It was late evening, where nocturnal events in the cities began to unfurl, people returning home to their families after a hard day's work, and another day reaching its end.

He stood a few metres behind the scientist who had his back to him. Gero's old, wrinkly hands were clasped behind him as he watched the faraway city skyline. Prince stared past the old man's shoulders and took in the horizon, his acute hearing picking up faint honks of vehicles, blaring of sirens in the distant, and other incoherent noises which made a bustling city.

At first it was all quiet, and then Gero spoke in a low, coarse voice.

"Northwest of East City. Target several low-rise buildings. Deaths… I want approximately 30," the old man demanded, his eyes sightlessly fixed on a spot in the horizon, "Now, go."

Under the light poured in from the crescent moon, Prince's teal eyes glowed a darker, more sinister shade, and a feral smirk graced his face. East City was his designated territory where he'd perform his _Terror Tasks_. Then with a burst of blue energy, he lifted himself up into the sky. His pale blue eyes flared with fire, now turned into a deeper shade of electric blue, and he glared murderously into the direction of which he'd been assigned to. Blood and adrenaline pumped rapidly through his veins as anxiety rose within him. With that, he blasted towards his destination and zipped by undetected through the cluster of trees.

It was high time he shed some blood.

Minutes later, he found himself hovering unnoticeably above the quiet town in outskirts of East City. He scrutinised the place with his keen sight and his hands began to glow as he charged blue energy balls in his palms. He spotted three pedestrians walking and talking happily on the streets, possibly heading home and oblivious to his dark presence.

He lifted his hand and aimed for several medium-size residential buildings. There'd be a good death toll tonight. He smirked; his eyes gleamed with bloodlust, and without warning, released his power balls straight into the homes that belonged to nearly 50 innocent people.

Explosions were heard and he lowered his hands to the sides as the blaze he created reflected wildly upon his sharp features. Screams and wails for help emanated and echoed into the night, but he simply drifted higher into the dark skies and away from the public eye. Uncaring for the victims and feeling satisfied with his work, he gave the devastating scene one last unremorseful glance and turned his back on it as he flew away.

He felt good; but it wasn't enough.

* * *

It was routine that after each Terror Task, he'd take the liberty to linger on the roof of the city centre's tallest building, the East City Trade Centre, and just let his mind wander. His would sit on the ledge, hunched over, and take in the bustling streets numbly as he brooded. Even though it calmed and unnerved him at the same time, he welcomed the fluctuating feelings as the ache proved that he was more than just alive. He watched the crowd dash back and forth on the street sides and cars zip by on the roads.

For the most part, he'd let his mind take him back to the faceless woman of his dreams. Lately, the dreams were becoming more and more vivid, almost as if they were not mere fabricated fantasies that his deluded mind conjured up. It was almost as if they were memories that he did not remember ever having. Has that lab explosion really stirred his memory that badly? Was there another life he led before that? If so, was the blue-headed woman in it, and where was she? Was she _real_?

He leaned forward, his hands clutching on the ledge. His eagle eyesight honed in on the cluster of human heads walking by one another. The urge to release an energy blast and wiping them of their existence gnawed at him, but at the same time, he felt that he shouldn't give in to the impulse. But it didn't mean that he would refrain himself from releasing tiny energy balls into the streets every once in a while just to scare those people.

So, he managed to get in a few childish antics. Distant surprise yelps were heard and he smirked with sick delight. Then he stopped and resumed watching the humans with a morbid fascination. _They look so much like me and yet so different,_ he thought.

Was his human life like this, oblivious, ignorant, and walking around with no powers?

He scowled. He despised weakness and was glad that he was a Saiyan, gratefulness to the scientist be damned. His eyes flashed a bright blue as they darted from one pedestrian's head to another, mentally sneering with contempt at the public. _Weak. That's weak, too. She's weak. He's weak. Definitely weak!_

And then his eyes caught a flash of azure that belonged to a woman who was walking in a fast pace. They narrowed into slits and he locked his gaze on the moving blue target.

Curious, he immediately stood up on the ledge and walked along it, parallel to the trail of the blue-haired woman down below. His eyes stalked her shocking head colour, and just as he reached the edge of the building, he free fell. He landed firmly on the ground with a crouch in the shadows of the dark side alley just behind a really huge metal dustbin.

He came out of the shadows and into the streets unnoticeably. He blended into the crowd like a normal pedestrian and caught up with the woman who stopped at the zebra crossing. The light was still red and she was waiting with the other walkers while talking on the phone. He stood behind her, keeping a one-metre distance between them as he fed his curiosity with sights of her hair colour, her skin, and the sound of her voice.

"The presentation went well and we managed to reel in a couple more investors. Tell daddy not to worry, though, I've got it all under control," the woman's melodious, silvery voice resounded through the air and tickled the edges of his mind with a sense of familiarity.

It captivated him and his heart raced. He _had_ to see her face.

* * *

**Well now. So near yet so far. Will he get to see her face? If yes, what will happen? If no, what will happen?**

_**Bohkxiérre Briefs**_** – a fancier name for 'boxers'.**

**_Bunny Ditzy_ ****– Need I say more?**

**_Andrea Etteen _****– Android 18. Teehee.**

_**Prince**_** – Just… prince… as in **_**Prince**_** Vegeta. XD**

**A/N: Again, I'm sorry for any mistakes spotted. It's always 2am by the time I publish new chapters. Plus, just to assure you, I have not abandoned my other stories. I just want to get a few chapters out for Legendary Evolution first. XD**

**So, remember to review and tell me what you liked about Chapter 2!**


	3. Chapter 3

**As promised, this chapter is a BV tsunami (Part 1). It's filled with both flashback and present day scenes, but I guess you'd be able to tell them apart. I hope the flow between flashback and the present day is fluid. But if it gets too confusing, PM me!**

**So I really hope you'll enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

* * *

The city echoed with blaring horns, chattering, and incessant noises that never matched. But amid the busy, noisy street, Prince subconsciously tuned them out to the point where the only sound he could hear was the voice of the woman in front of him at the pedestrian crossing.

"Fortunately, the blast wasn't even in the city, so yes, mom, I am fine, don't worry," her voice slipped off her tongue like a graceful stream and rang in his ears.

She snuck a glance at the oncoming traffic and then shifted the pile of files in her hand before pressing the phone in between her cheek and shoulder. She then stuffed her free hand into her large handbag, seemingly searching for something. Prince kept his eyes on her back as he shamelessly eavesdropped on her voice and conversation, the need to see her face urging him.

"Not yet, I'll be dropping my stuff off at the hotel first, and then I'll grab a bite down the street. Tell dad not to freak out. I'm okay."

The pedestrian traffic light then turned green and everyone began to walk, but the woman remained where she was, still distracted and preoccupied with her search. Amused, Prince cocked his head to the side when she groaned and then squeaked delightfully as she finally managed to fish out what was supposed to be her hotel key card.

"I hope he didn't cry when he woke up and found me gone," she said as she began to cross the street.

Prince remained still and allowed her a head start, but as she reached the centre of the wide main road, she stopped again. Her key card had slipped out of her fingers and fell to the tarred ground. Just then, the green light began to blink fervently, and oblivious to her surroundings and the change in light, she fumbled with her files and stooped down gingerly to pick up her key. By the time she retrieved it, the light has already turned red. Prince was about to assist her in her predicament, but halted in his tracks when his hearing picked up skidding tyres.

A truck cornered the block recklessly and flew past a red light, its driver completely missing the lone pedestrian on his side of the street who noticed him a little too late. The truck's loud horn blared throughout the perimeter and flew upward the walls of the skyscrapers, and Prince's eyes darted between the frozen woman and oncoming truck.

Rooted to the spot and too frightened to move, the woman clenched her eyes and accepted her fate as the front grill of the monster vehicle was now at 15 metres from collision. The driver slammed on the brakes; all ten wheels of the vessel released a deafening screech and then a loud crash reverberated through the area.

And then, there was silence. Papers flew and were strewn all over, and everything else, even time, stood still.

The area quieted as the pedestrians stopped and stared at the commotion; the face of the truck collided with a curb. Whispers flooded everyone's ears as the people looked between the confused truck driver whose face has paled twenty shades of white and the woman who has supposedly cheated a horrible death, clutched tightly within a man's arms on the other side of the street.

Pressing his hands protectively onto her back, Prince secured the woman firmly to his body as he sent the driver an angry scowl and his deadliest glare. The blue-headed woman pried her eyes open upon hearing murmurs around her and wondered if she had died. The first thing she saw in her line of sight was a tanned skin muscular neck and refined collar bone, then she pulled back a little to see the sharp outline of a man's jaw, followed by his sculpted cheekbones.

From her angle of view, she could tell that he was livid and was shaking with suppressed anger. She swallowed and then only realising that her nerves were fluctuating between functioning and giving up, so she rested her head on his shoulder and slumped against him. Prince looked down at the top of her blue head and gently loosened his hold, the driver and everyone's scrutiny temporarily forgotten.

The woman slowly lifted her head again, unravelling the rest of her face as she looked at her valiant saviour. Her eyes were the first things Prince noticed; they were the bluest of blue he had ever seen. Completely ensnared and lost for words, he suddenly couldn't find the strength to look away. His gaze slowly lowered; her ruby lips were parted and exhaling warm breaths that greeted his cool skin, igniting a passion which has been lying latent within him.

The blue-headed woman swallowed again and Prince looked up at her once more. Her fingers that were still clenched in his shirt tightened, and as she was about to push him away, he finally spoke in a devastatingly familiar low, guttural voice.

"You should always watch where you're going, woman."

Her eyes bulged at his words and her breath hitched in her airway; that line struck a chord. Her parted lips gaped as if to say something but again, he beat her to it.

"Somebody could get hurt," he said with a small smirk, and just as he did, a stabbing pain squeeze his head. He released her and clenched his eyes, clutching his head. She gasped, noticing his pain, and her hold on him tightened even more.

xxxx

_He was sitting in the corner of the coffee shop in the affluent West City and brooding quietly over a hot cup of coffee. He donned a metal dog tag around his neck, complementing a white tight-fitting tee shirt. He wore a pair of green camo pants with his favourite pair of black heavy duty combat boots, and on his lap laid his matching camo jacket._

_He has been waiting for his girlfriend for over an hour, and after two cups of the same brew, she still hasn't shown her face. Bored and patience running thin, a heavy frown graced his stone-hard features. He stared at his phone, contemplating if he should give her a buzz but decided against it as she had repeatedly texted him every ten minutes to say that she was on the way._

_If his judgements were right, this meeting would not end well and judging by the kind of person his girlfriend was, she'd have all the excuses in the world memorised. This time, he would give her a piece of his mind._

_The bell that was hung on the entrance door jingled, indicating that someone has entered the coffee shop. He lifted his dark eyes from his phone and stared at the woman who had just slinked into the seat across from him._

"_You're late," he murmured._

_She first smiled sweetly at him in greeting and then gave him a once-over._

"_Vegeta," she started and then avoided his gaze, her hands clasped together in front of her. She took in a deep breath and huffed out, "We need to talk."_

_Vegeta raised a brow, "Kay," he said as he leaned back into the chair, placing his hands on top of his thighs and giving her his full attention, "What do you wanna talk about?"_

_The woman looked him squarely in the eyes and blurted without hesitation, "I'm breaking up with you."_

_At first, he glared hard at her, and then looked away. For some reason, he had anticipated this from her and he had been wondering when she was going to do it. This, of course, came as no surprise but it didn't mean he wouldn't feel anything when it happened. After all, he was only human. His face remained calm, but internally, he was battling a raging storm and wondering if he should even try again._

"_Two years," he muttered._

"_Two years, yes," she repeated as she folded her arms, and dryly said, "and one of them you've been away."_

_Vegeta scowled at her ignorant remark and growled, "I'm in the military. This is what I do – I go away! They call me, I get deployed, and I'm gone. I don't have a choice!"_

"_I know you don't have a choice and that is the problem. You just _can't_ be there for me. Do you know how awfully lonely it gets?" she scoffed._

"_I'm back for awhile now, aren't I?" he argued, leaning forward to grip the sides of the table, his anger rising with every self-serving reason she came up with._

"_Yeah, but for like, two months! And then you'd be gone again for another several more! I can't do this any longer, it's tiring!"_

_He scowled. It was just as he thought; they're all the same. They'd come to him, they'd take from him, he'd go away to do his job, and then they'd leave him. A vicious cycle._

_He avoided her gaze and crashed back into the backrest with a huff. He folded his arms and clenched and unclenched his fists painfully underneath them to contain his anger. At this point, he didn't want to speak any more; much less hear her voice._

"_Vegeta," she called firmly to garner his attention. He angrily turned to face her and glared. She frowned for a second and then her face faltered to a sympathetic expression, "You should know that I love you with all my heart but you have to understand from my point of-"_

"_Just…" he closed his eyes and took a deep, staggering breath through his nostrils, severely aggravated by the sound of her voice, "… shut up. Stop talking," he growled and cut her off, reopening and fixating his eyes on a random spot at the far end of the room. He would rather stare at the boring hole in the wall than her face, lest he'd be charged for domestic violence. He was that close to losing it and her contradictive bullshit was generously giving him a boost towards that danger zone._

_The woman's eyes narrowed and she scowled. Then very abruptly, she stood up and raised her voice, slamming a hand on the table and making a scene, "This is exactly why I'm breaking up with you. You don't communicate with me!"_

_Vegeta tuned her out and blatantly ignored her, uncaring of the fact that she was fuming because of it. But to his surprise, her so-called anger dissipated just as quickly as it rose and she smiled deviously. She rounded the table and walked towards him, placing a hand on the shoulder sleeve of his white t-shirt and lowered her head next to his face._

_He glowered at her close proximity and the disgusting hand on his favourite white tee. The urge to swat it away beckoned but he told himself that he'd settle for simply shooting the shirt with his rifle and then grenade the shit out of its remains when he was done. Or he could just burn the damn thing._

_Oblivious to his violent thoughts, she gave his shoulder a little squeeze and sweetly said, "I'm sorry it had to be this way, Vegeta, but I hope that one day you'll get over me and move on. And just to let you know, I've found someone else and so far, for the last two months, he's always been there and that makes me happy. Won't you be happy for me?"_

_Vegeta pressed his lips and his nostrils flared. Glad with his reaction, she simply added for zest, "I do hope we can still be friends and hang out together."_

_Nearing his breaking point, Vegeta jerked his shoulder to push her hand off, "Don't hold your breath."_

_She frowned, rolled her eyes, and shrugged, "Whatever. It's your loss," and without saying goodbye, sashayed off._

_By now, Vegeta has passed beyond the line of civility and he was not about to let that contemptuous bitch have the last say and get away with it. Just as she reached the middle of the café, he called out her name loud enough for everyone in the premise to give him the curious eye, "Hey, Brianna," he spat deeply, his voice laden with irritation and disgust as that name rolled off his tongue._

_Annoyed with the tone and volume he used, she whipped around and glared at him in anger, and rudely flashed him a 'what' gesture with her hands._

"_Send your new boyfriend my sympathies. I hope he likes second-hand garbage."_

_Brianna gasped and gaped in disbelief at his audacity, and looked around embarrassingly as the people started to snicker. Her face burned a bright red and she released a strangled shriek, stomping her feet before storming out of the place. Vegeta turned away with a smirk, feeling triumphant as he had the last laugh and the last say. Someone whistled while a few cheered and clapped, but eventually everyone went back to their own business._

_Even though he sat alone glowering at the innocent cup on the table, Vegeta has never felt lighter as his excess baggage took the next flight out. He picked up his drink, studied the plastic, and then took a swig. Then he got up and left the premise, taking the cup with him._

_With a finger hooking his jacket over a shoulder and the coffee cup grasped securely in one hand, he walked down the street in slow but large strides. He ignored all who passed him as he mulled deeply over his most recent break-up. 'Two years wasted on that good for nothing, cheating, pretentious slut', he thought with a sneer, 'Good thing I haven't touched her since I got back. Who knows what kind of disease I'd contract,' he thought bitterly and then sighed with relief, 'At least things couldn't get any worse now'._

_Vegeta toasted to the air as he silently congratulated himself for being liberated from the love trap, tilting his head backwards and gulping down the last of his coffee. Just as he did, he never expected to be elbowed in the stomach and get the wind knocked out of him. So he reacted on reflex, dropped his cup, and seized his enemy._

_The woman in his arms yelped and he froze at the sound of a feminine voice. A soft hand clutched the fabric near the rounded collar of his t-shirt while the other gripped on his muscular bicep to stabilise herself. But she really didn't need to as his hands were wounded tightly around her waist and keeping her steady._

_Time stopped as the two strangers froze with only inches between their faces. One was mesmerised by the deep colour of her sapphire eyes and cerulean hair, while the other ogled and subtly swooned at his handsome, rugged features._

_Vegeta was the first to break and lazily said, "You should always watch where you're going, woman."_

_Her blue eyes widened and sparkled at the sound of his husky, guttural voice. Her heart raced and she could feel the corners of her lips already itching to curl upwards._

"_Somebody could get hurt," he finished casually with a small smirk._

_Unable to contain her giddiness any longer, she flashed him a full blown, brilliant smile, and breathed, "We wouldn't want that now, would we?"_

xxxx

After a full minute of a sudden disturbing piece of vision, Prince finally came to; he took in a sharp breath as the worst of the pulsating pain receded into a dull ache. Soft but familiar sapphire eyes stared back at him worriedly and he blinked, stubbornly pulling himself out of his reverie and gently pushing her away in the process.

"A-are you okay?" she questioned shakily, releasing him as she moved a little to the side. Her own trauma from the near-death incident subsided and forgotten the moment she realised he was in pain. Though she very much wanted to inspect him at a closer range, she settled for darting her eyes back and forth to check for possible injuries.

Prince recomposed himself, his breathing irregular but not showing. He registered her worry and mentally questioned it, the same way he questioned Dr. Gero's concern of his welfare. He stared at her but when found no ill intentions in her eyes, he gave a quiet nod.

Relieved, the woman released the breath she was holding as thoughts of her family flooded her mind. If it wasn't for this man, she wouldn't be standing here, well and alive. "You saved my life," she stated gratefully and said almost tearfully, "I don't know how to thank you."

Prince took a step back and virtually froze as he looked at her for a long while, properly taking in every detail and inch of her face. She has blue hair; that much he was sure, but the style and length was different. She was the woman in the vision he just had! Could she be the same woman who appears in his dreams, too? And there was mention of that Vegeta guy again! Was _he_ Vegeta? He shook his head and wondered if whatever it was he just had was a vision or flashback, or if he had just suffered a seizure.

"Are you sure you're fine? You don't look too well," she pressed, worry clearly written in her eyes.

"I'm fine," he grinded through his teeth, then gave her a once-over before straining his concern, "You… okay?"

She was quiet at first, then smiled as she assured him, "I'm still in one piece," and Prince thought that was the most captivating sight he'd ever seen. He swallowed and remained rooted to the spot, his face not betraying the slightest of expressions.

Some of the pedestrians came over to ask if they were alright; even the truck driver approached them apologetically, handing over some of the papers he retrieved from the ground. Prince stood to the side, his arms folded and glare set in place as he etched the driver's energy signal deep into his psyche – this man would not live to see the next day. He observed the professionalism in the way the woman handled the situation, and soon the commotion died down and everyone dispersed, including the culprit who caused all these turmoil in the first place – he would see him again later.

So then the two strangers were the only ones left at the scene. They stood not too far from one another as they shared awkward glances. The woman then stepped forward meekly, her sweaty fingers gripping onto her papers anxiously.

"I -uh- was actually on my way to grab something to eat. I'm hoping if you would just spare an hour or two, please, let me buy you dinner," she pleaded with him.

Prince swallowed, mentally linking his consciousness back to the vision he just had. He pondered about the similarity of the situation and concluded that both vision and present day was uncanny. As such, it made him question the possibility that the vision could actually be his memories from his life as a human. And the only way to delve deeper and comprehend what was happening was to join her.

"Lead the way."

The woman grinned and said, "Great! And I know just where to go. It's only a few blocks down this road."

The male stranger nodded and they began their journey. He trailed quietly behind the blue-headed female and studied her form from the back. He observed the way she walked in those three-inch stilettos, which counters cupped her heels perfectly at the back arc of her ankles. His eyes traced upwards, following the contours of her shapely legs and to the rounded edges of her bottom. He quietly cleared his throat and skimmed past that, tilting his head a miniscule angle as he took in the curve of her back and then her captivating blue waves that fell just below her shoulder blades.

She glanced back every few metres to see if he was following, and whenever she did, Prince averted his gaze. Midway through their journey, his headache returned when a piercing ache stroke the edges of his brain. He clenched his teeth and took deep breaths through his nostrils as he fought to keep his eyes open, in case he lost sight of the woman among the sea of people. In the midst of his throbbing headache, the woman snuck another glance behind and this time, caught his eyes. And almost immediately, a flash of white flared in front of him and another vision unfurled.

xxxx

_The woman stepped away from him, straightened her blouse and skirt, and adjusted her hair. Her bright yet shy smile was still stuck on her face as she looked at him. Her gaze lowered and she gaped at the sight of his coffee-stained t-shirt._

"_Oh God, I'm so sorry!" she blurted embarrassingly as soon as she noticed the stain on his shirt, and dug into her bag for a packet of tissue, "Let me get that!" _

_Vegeta took an apprehensive step back with his hands in the air, "It's okay, forget it."_

"_No, no, it's my fault," she pressed as she retrieved the packet of tissue, but then paused as the uneasy look on his face became more apparent. Her face faltered a little and gently offered, "At least let me get it washed for you, there's a laundry service down the-"_

"_I said forget it," Vegeta resisted a little harsher than intended, then softened as he noticed her mixed and confused expression. He frowned and the sudden need to correct himself urged him, "I'm gonna burn this thing."_

"_Oh… Well… Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't know you'd take it so hard," she looked away, her eyes darting everywhere else but to his face and he realised he made another mistake. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair._

"_I'm burning it for another reason, not the coffee stain," he corrected, a little nicer this time, and watched as her demeanour brightened up a little._

"_Well, then, let me get you another cup of coffee, I insist. Also, I'm sure I can help you come up with a 100 fun ways to burn a shirt," she virtually chirped with a bright smile, purposely leaving out the part about how scientifically fun it would be._

_She scrutinised him like an experiment and found him to be really good looking; tanned, well-sculpted in all the right places, dark, and rugged – the epitome of hardness and testosterone. And judging from his military garbs, this man served his country, and she could never look away from a man in uniform, especially after taking the time to analyse his surface. Being said, she was never one to waste her time evaluating any man she came across. But with this one, she discovered the fact that she actually studied him to be really intriguing._

_Oblivious to her lecherous thoughts about him, Vegeta bit his inner lip as he contemplated hard on both her offers. This woman seemed nice; really nice, in fact, and he found himself already liking that trait of hers. But her personality wasn't the only thing that took his fancy. She was easily the most gorgeous woman he has ever met, or even talked to; fair skin that looked soft to the touch, plump pouty lips that couldn't stop forming contagious smiles, hourglass figure, melodious voice, and just about the right height – an ethereal ocean goddess._

_He mentally frowned. It was his misfortune to have ended a relationship just 15 minutes ago, and he didn't exactly want to fall for someone else and jump ship so quickly right after. He didn't expect this creature to appear so soon._

_But this woman was just… perfect. He would be the biggest idiot in human history to refuse her, but he shouldn't accept her offer. Plus, women who looked like her only meant that she was out of his league. Usually, that wouldn't sit well for him, judging from his last conquest._

_He swallowed and hesitated, gripping his jacket tightly with one hand while slipping the other into his pocket to hide his sweaty palm._

_She sensed his reluctance and could almost tell that he was about to reject her. But something told her that she had to be persistent with this one. So, once again, she dug deep into her bag and fished out her name card and a pen._

_Quietly, Vegeta watched her scribble something determinedly on the back of the card. The urge to tell her to just drop the matter beckoned him, though he didn't really want to._

"_This is my card," she said and held the card in front of him, waiting for him to accept it. He stared at it for a moment before reluctantly taking it and quickly stuffing it in his pocket without even giving it a look._

_Her face was serious and her eyes calculative; then she said, "That's my personal number on the back. When you're ready to redeem your coffee," she smiled one-sidedly, "Give me a buzz."_

"_Thanks," Vegeta murmured and took a step past her to walk on, leaving this woman possibly for good, which was probably for the better. But then she spoke again and he wondered if she was trying too hard or he just wasn't bothered enough to see through her._

"_Or we could just talk about the many ways one could burn a shirt," she shrugged delicately. He turned his head a little ways to the side and glanced at her. Amused, he felt the corner of his lips curl up a little._

"_Maybe," he said, lowering his eyes almost regrettably to the ground. He mumbled a goodbye, courteously inclined his head a little, and went on his way._

_Little did he know, the beautiful stranger watched him walk away, disheartened over the fact that she never found out his name._

oOoOo

_Few hours later, a topless, muscle-bound Vegeta was seen lounging and drinking a bottle of beer in his lavish condominium unit which he shared with his long-term friend and comrade, Nappa._

_Nappa was bald and towering, and as he entered the house, his brows rose upon hearing explosion sound effects at high volume. He wasn't expecting Vegeta to be home this early._

_Across from the main entrance was a dark brown long and horizontal drawer, and beyond that sat a three-seater couch which Vegeta was currently occupying. Nappa could only see the back of his head as he took large strides towards the back of the drawers and threw his keys onto the lacquered surface. _

"_Hey, Vegeta," Nappa greeted. He went around the waist-high drawer but stopped as his sensitive nose picked up a foul scent. He sniffed, "… You smell something burning?"_

_At first there was silence, and Nappa looked over to his friend whose eyes were distant though locked onto the screen and was seemingly engrossed in the mindless action movie. Then, very carelessly and almost hauntingly, Vegeta murmured, "Must be the neighbours."_

_Nappa's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "No, it's coming from in here," and went to the nearest window. He opened it, leaned outward a little, and spotted a metal crate on the ledge just outside of it. A brow raised as he saw the burned remnants of whatever it was that was in there and quickly closed the window._

"_Yup, must be the neighbours," he wisely repeated and plunged into the other end of the three-seater couch to join his friend, "That was a quick date. So, how's Britney?"_

_Vegeta's eyes flashed for a second and without even attempting to correct the man's blunder on his ex's name, he took a swig off the bottle and answered almost impartially, "Her brother came instead, said she died."_

_Nappa stared at Vegeta for five long seconds, swiped the remote off the coffee table, and expressed his condolences, "Man, that sucks. She had a nice ass, though." He shrugged and began to flick through the channels for something worthwhile to watch._

_Vegeta simply allowed Nappa to take control of the television and quietly drank his beer, his eyes sightlessly stuck on the monitor. In that split second, a flash of blue flew past the screen and the beautiful stranger's face appeared and disappeared just as quickly when Nappa changed channels._

"_Go back!" Vegeta snapped out of his reverie and suddenly burst at Nappa._

"_But why? There wasn't anything interesting on," the large man protested as he saw no reason to go back a few channels, and continue flicking._

_Vegeta slammed his beer down onto the coffee table and leaned over. He punched the man's arm and then snatched the remote, "Gimme that, asshole!"_

"_Geez, you coulda just told me!" Nappa whined as he rubbed his arm._

_The younger soldier ignored him and was now hunched over as he sat with his elbows propped agitatedly against his knees. He flicked the channels backwards like a madman and hoped it wasn't a commercial; else he would never find out. He was sure it was that woman. After a few more backspaces, he finally found the channel he was looking for._

_It was an interview of some sort and the same beautiful woman was dressed in a light blue blouse and dark blue pencil skirt, with a designer lab coat over them. Seated very ladylike on a couch, she smiled brilliantly, just as he remembered, as she answered the questions asked by the host of the show. Curious, he cocked his head to the side and fixed his hearing on her voice and his focus on her face._

"_I didn't know you were into science," Nappa commented as he leaned back into the couch, not missing the concentration and confusion on Vegeta's face._

_Vegeta continued to ignore him and pulled out her name card from his pocket. He read the back of the card with her personal number and then flipped it to the front. Then he read her name in black, bold letters and matched them to the ones on the TV screen._

'_BULMA BRIEFS'._

_Mouth agape and brain malfunctioning, a lost and startled expression crept onto his face. How could he not have seen this? How could he not have recognised her? Everybody knew who she was and would identify her from a mile away, so why couldn't he!? Of all the women he had the chance to bump into, she had to be the world's richest woman. Not only was she vice president to the most affluent organisation on the planet, she had to have the nicest personality to complement her appearance. Well, as nice as she portrayed herself to be._

_So he had just become single and then this woman came along right after. He wasn't ready to commit yet again but he was, no doubt, attracted to her. Nevertheless, he turned her down but actually did consider giving her a call, only maybe a few days later. And now he had to find out that she was _the_ richest woman on Earth. Was someone up there playing a joke on him?! Because whatever slight intentions he had on buzzing her up has now dissipated and he had somehow developed a subconscious block._

_She would henceforth be a closed topic forever because women like Bulma Briefs simply cannot be mingled with. It was like heaven and hell and they just cannot meet in the middle._

_On the sidelines, Nappa watched him quietly and pieced the puzzle together. Oddly, he felt the need to intervene as this was something that he didn't see happening to Vegeta every day. So in the midst of Vegeta's confusion, he leaned over and snatched the name card away._

"_You're friends with _the_ Bulma Briefs?! No way!" he howled and stood up, stretching his hands upward and holding the card up and out of reach just to spite his protesting short friend._

"_Give that back, damn you, and I'll blow your brains out!" Vegeta roared as he jumped onto the couch, ready to pounce and pummel his towering housemate._

"_Don'tcha mean 'or you'll blow my brains out', Vegeta?"_

"_Give it back and you'll find out!" he growled, then leapt towards Nappa and clung onto his back. They fell to the floor and wrestled a little; he even managed to restrain him in a chokehold and punch him in the side._

_Nappa gagged a little and croaked in surrender. Vegeta snatched the card back and walked towards the television as if a brawl did not just occur. Nappa rubbed his sore neck and plunged into the couch, and any prior scuffle was forgotten. "How did you meet her anyway?" he asked curiously._

_Vegeta hesitated, but eventually growled out his answer. Nappa seemed pleased and urged him to give the woman a call, but the shorter man simply said no._

"_Oooh, right. Brenda just died. I understand that you need time to mourn. Why don't you call Miss Blue Bombshell Billionaire tomorrow then?"_

_Perplexed, Vegeta simply glared at his friend in silence as he briefly wondered how he was affiliated with him in the first place. Annoyed and having no desire to be pressured into this unlikely association, he walked away._

"_Hey, Vegeta! How did she die anyway?" Nappa hollered. Just as he suspected, the lad and the hussy had just broken up; about damn time. That chick was never right for him to begin with anyway. But he was also curious and wanted to know how well Vegeta was taking it, or how much it was affecting him. Once he has gauged his reaction, he'd know for sure what to do next, what with the blue-headed female being in the picture now._

_Vegeta paused in midstride, then a second later, threw over his shoulder, "She suffocated on her own vomit!" and retreated into his room._

_Nappa reclined into the couch with a sense of satisfaction as he hogged the remote, "Yup, he definitely needs my divine intervention."_

oOoOo

_Hibernating for three days straight was the best idea Vegeta had since the day he met the woman. It was the only way he could come up with in order to stop wondering about Bulma Briefs and avoid Nappa from pressing the matter further. With Nappa, he could pretend that the man was transparent, but the former, however, was easier said than done. He could do nothing to vanquish her from his mind. In all actuality, the more he tried to not think of her, the more he thought of her._

_It was late evening on the third day; 7.46pm and the skies were a dark purplish hue with just a tinge of reddish orange peeking over the horizon where the sun was retiring. Vegeta opened the double sliding doors of his room and peered sleepily outside for any signs of Nappa. Satisfied that the large man wasn't in sight, he trudged through the living room and straight into the adjacent dining hall. He sat by the long glass dining table and rifled through the few boxes of leftover pizzas._

_He didn't particularly like pizza, but like a beggar and a sleepy, hungry man, it wasn't much of a choice, so he wolfed down a few cold slices. He was hunched over the table and silently eating his second slice when a few magazines on the far end of the glass surface caught his attention. He fished the first one towards him and flipped through it, and then quickly closed it as it contained mostly boring science stuff. He wondered, 'Since when the hell did any of us buy science magazines?'_

_Pushing the first magazine aside, he flipped open the second one and the first article he saw was an interview with the headline, 'Capsule Corporation's Finest Asset', in reference to Bulma Briefs whose face was below it. 'That's strange,' he thought as he stopped eating, closed the mag and pushed it away on deliberate, and rifled through the rest of the pile. There were approximately 5 or 6 science journals, with 2 or 3 of them having Bulma's face printed on the cover._

_Vegeta abandoned his dinner and searched the entire house, only to realise that there were more of those damned magazines; he found them on the coffee table and even on the kitchen counter. The covers read 'Capsule Corporation', 'Out of This World Scientific Breakthrough', 'Bachelorette of the Year', and more. Bulma Briefs was everywhere!_

_So he gathered all of the magazines and gripped them tightly in his hands. He scowled as he glowered at them, particularly at the one with her face on the main cover. He was agitated, irate, and asphyxiated. His eyes narrowed dangerously. There was only one idiot who could have done this._

_Meanwhile, Nappa was warming up the seat of his toilet bowl, nearly accomplishing his animal rescue mission on the handheld tablet when suddenly an angry wail resounded from the living room and he tensed. He heard the door to his bedroom slammed, followed by a string of lewd curses before his unlocked bathroom door flung open wide to reveal a furious Vegeta._

"_Whoah, Vege-"_

"_What the fuck is this?!" Vegeta yelled at the top of his lungs, cutting the man off as he propelled the pile of magazines into his face._

"_Heyyy, they're science magazines," unfazed, Nappa said innocently as he picked one up and flipped through it._

"_Yea, I noticed! The fuck are they doing here?" Vegeta growled with his arms folded. It also dawned on him that he had barged in on the man at the wrong time, and was beginning to withdraw._

_Oblivious to Vegeta's discomfort, Nappa held one journal up, pointing particularly at the one with Bulma's face, and said with a grin, "It's actually interesting, this science stuff, eh? Didja read it?"_

"_Just… go fuck yourself," annoyed, Vegeta grumbled and left the room just as quickly as he came._

_Nappa stared down at the magazine in his hand, reading the headline off the covers and then opening a page to the first article. He had a good look at Bulma Briefs' face and nodded impressively, "Definitely interesting."_

oOoOo

_Vegeta stormed into his room, slamming his sliding door shut behind him and walked to his mahogany working desk. He gripped the edges and seethed as his emotions toyed with his rationality. This woman was not leaving his psyche and thanks to his so-called friend, the magazine stunt had been the last straw. He was left with no choice other than to sit and think, and decide._

_He sighed as he plunged into the foot of his bed and ran a hand through his hair. This was not going to be easy. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried the bottom of his face in his palm. He wondered why this wooing thing was harder than usual, and then he frowned._

"_Because it's fucking Miss Fame and Money, that's why," he growled to himself. He plopped down onto the bed and lied spread-eagled. Even though he liked her, it wasn't like he had to be with her, right? He could settle on being just acquaintances. After all, that would help boost his reputation and influence. Plus, when his father was still alive, he had a close work affiliation with Capsule Corporation. He supposed he could take over that position, and what better time to start if not now. Also, she seemed to be nice; but weren't they all?_

_Vegeta rolled over and swiped his phone and the name card off the bedside table. He glared at the delicately handwritten number on the back of the card and scowled. Dialling the number was nerve-wracking, but trying not to fumble on the first call was downright stressful. This woman was pure pressure in every way. His scowl deepened as he punched in her number. Shaking his head and letting out an exasperated huff, he placed the phone to his ear and thought bitterly, 'She'd better be worth it.'_

'_Eight rings and I'm hanging up,' he thought to himself. The sixth ring sounded, then the seventh, and just as his fingers slid towards the end-call button, a woman's voice came through the speaker._

"_Hello, Bulma speaking," greeted the cheery voice._

_Vegeta's eyes bulged and he froze for a moment. He recollected himself when Bulma said hello again, and babbled, "Did you know that a simple burn test can help determine the kind of material a fabric is made of? In this case, I think I may have been duped into thinking it was genuine cotton, because it wasn't…"_

_Just as those words left his mouth, he slapped his forehead and clenched his eyes in embarrassment. He mouthed the word 'fuck' over and over again, and mentally groaned, 'Of all the dumbest things to say, you have to pick a scientific theory to explain to one of the world's most intelligent scientist!'_

_At first there was silence and he wasn't sure if the woman had hung up. But her light laughter resounded through the phone, and he knew he had just made a joke out of himself._

"_Who is this?" she asked amid laughter._

_He paused and thought for a second; first, he realised he hadn't introduced himself, and second, he was already beginning to like the way she laughed. It was a crossover between a chuckle and cackle, which he found rather amusing; this can't be good._

"_Erm… the guy you owe coffee to," and he chided inwardly. He was on the verge of slamming his face into the nearest wall, 'Way to go, that was fucking smooth. I'm fucking this up with every sentence that comes out from my mouth.'_

"_I was beginning to think you didn't like coffee. No one should hate coffee."_

"_I used to," he murmured stonily, partly because he was surprised with the fact that she actually remembered him. 'Great, I'm seriously spoiling this. She'd have to be a complete psycho to meet with me now.'_

"_That's good to know. I'm actually free after 9pm, you up for a cuppa?"_

"_I guess?" he nearly squeaked, and then cleared his throat, hoping that she didn't catch it._

"_Great! We'll go to your favourite café?"_

_Vegeta quieted and hesitated as his apprehension continued to build and elevate to the highest peak. His brain also seemed to have stopped functioning, which he realised, happened every time she spoke. Oddly enough, she seemed to be able to decipher the enigma that he was. She felt his hesitancy and suggested a place instead._

"_How about the one on West Saiko Path? It's just a few blocks down the road from West In-Seign."_

"_Yea, I know that one. So, I'll -uh- see you there at 9.30pm," he confirmed and for some strange reason, he felt her smile through the phone._

xxxx

The vision ended abruptly, pulling Prince back to reality. He found himself trudging against the building walls and pressing the heel of his palm to aching head. He looked up to see the woman at a good distance away among the throng of people, so he endured the piercing pain and kept on walking. After that last vision, there was no way he'd lose her now.

* * *

**So, Prince is starting to remember the beginning of his past life. I'm pretty sure he would want to know more about this blue-headed woman. What about you?**

**Again, it's 2am here. Pardon the mistakes. Hope you enjoyed it and r****emember to review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd like to apologise for the late update. And there are two very good reasons why. **

**So, here's why: I went for a holiday and this chapter exceeds 14,000 words (my longest non-oneshot).**

**Several characters will be introduced in this chapter. Also, to jog your memory:**

**- xxxx before and after italicised passages indicates the start and end of a flashback.**

**Do enjoy the long-ass read! XD**

* * *

**Last time on Legendary Evolution: Prince's flashback.**

"_Great! We'll go to your favourite café?"_

_Vegeta quieted and hesitated for a moment, his apprehension building and elevating to its highest peak. His brain also seemed to have stopped functioning, which he realised, happened every time she spoke. Then she subtly helped him out._

"_How about the one on West Saiko Path? It's just a few blocks down the road from West In-Seign."_

"_Yea, I know that one. So, I'll -uh- see you there at 9.30pm," he confirmed and for some strange reason, he felt her smile through the phone._

* * *

The vision ended just as quickly as it came, causing Prince to clench his eyes as a bigger and fiercer migraine sliced through his head. He staggered forward and persevered as if his head didn't hurt at all. By now it was important to keep up with her, in case she swayed from his line of sight. He struggled, hurting from within as he trailed quietly behind the blue-haired woman. The latest vision was weirder and more vivid than the first, and it left him extremely confused and wanting to see more; wanting to _know_ more.

For one, the blue-headed woman in his mind was definitely a younger version of _this_ lady. And two, the bald man in it seemed strangely familiar; he was sure he'd seen him somewhere before. He frowned and huffed exasperatedly as he pushed his way through the throng of annoying humans. His brows knitted together, concentration written on his face as he strained to remember.

The face of the man in his vision clung to the edge of his mind like a parasite demanding to be noticed, and what made it worse was that he could _almost_ identify him. And he'd _almost_ nailed it had the woman not stop and turn a sharp left to enter a restaurant. He halted and lingered just before the entrance, his attentive eyes taking in the classy environs of the place. He looked above him and read the restaurant's name off the signage. Its delicate curves indicated that this eatery was a rather refined joint. He made a face. He supposed he could do this fine-dining thing, though he'd rather settle for the local burger shack. Those usually came without the judgemental scrutiny of pretentious socialites; in other words, _people_.

He frowned and eventually walked in to stand behind the woman. He observed her delicate hand gestures as she conversed with the waiter in a language that sounded foreign to him. Her voice waved into his personal space, emittingan unusually familiar ring that stood out that filtered out the incessant jabbering of inconsequential humans. His headache reduced substantially as a result of the resonance of her voice. He liked it.

Once she was done talking, he cocked his head to the side and studied her features, all the while concluding that her accent was just as attractive as the way the tips of her cerulean hair teased the arc of her back every time she moved. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She turned to face him with a polite smile and motioned him to follow her. The waiter led the couple to a secluded corner next to a large picture window that faced the main street. The position of their seating was illuminated with a soft and dim orange lighting; not too shady yet not too bright. It was the perfect setting for couples who seek a quiet dinner, and unbeknownst to one another, either party discreetly approved of the isolated setup. Prince and the woman settled in almost immediately, sharing awkward glances every few seconds before the waiter returned to their table with a menu. The boy then politely gestured that he'd be back within ten minutes to serve them.

The two strangers studied the vertical rectangular menus, one very casually while the other, intently. Either way, they held their menus upright as they picked out their dishes in silence, their faces completely covered from one another's view save for the top of their heads.

That didn't stop the woman from sneaking curious glances over the top of the food book. She did it very subtly, looking up after every glance-through of three dishes. She thought she'd be able to get a glimpse of some skin but all she could see was the man's prominent widow's peak and upswept blonde hair.

She couldn't stop looking at him. When she first set her eyes on him, familiarity hit her so hard unlike the truck which missed her. The man's features were sharp and prominent; and though his eyes, and hair colour and shape were different, the only person that he reminded her of was her husband, Vegeta.

Of course, Prince was unaware of her opinions about him but he knew from the start that she was peeping. He smirked behind the menu, and like her, found her to be devastatingly familiar, too. So he decided to humour her. He looked up just as she did and caught her gaze from across the table. The woman froze and tightened her hold on the menu. She swallowed hard and wondered how one stare from this man could render her immobile and so speechless, two times in the last 20 minutes.

Coming from a typical upper-class family, she pulled a flawless aristocratic stunt to cover up her embarrassment for getting caught. She cleared her throat, gently laid down her menu, and flashed the most pleasant smile she could make that no man could resist.

"Shall we order?" she asked sweetly.

Prince raised a brow at her display and put down his menu as well. He then swept his gaze across the restaurant to flag down the nearest waiter. After surveying the premise, he spotted the same one who was supposed to serve them. However, the boy was tending to another table with his back facing them. Prince frowned as he was not about to holler and draw attention to himself, so he did the only thing he could think of at the moment. He formed a grain-size energy ball and pinched it between his pointer and thumb. He flicked it skilfully across the room, scoring a direct hit to the waiter's nape, startling the kid. The boy yelped and whipped around, rubbing the mysterious soreness on his neck as he searched for the source of it.

Prince caught his confused expression and wordlessly motioned the poor boy over with two fingers. Regaining his bearings, the waiter approached them apologetically and prepared to jot down their orders.

"I'll have the soupe à l'oignon and the salad Niçoise. That would be all for me," the woman ordered smoothly. She looked at Prince and encouraged with smile, "Order whatever your heart desires. Go crazy."

Prince stared lazily at her and then at the menu to survey more dishes. A frown graced his face, which unnoticeably turned into a scowl, bordering a pout. The woman didn't miss that involuntary quirk and thought it was rather cute. And as much as she'd like to think otherwise, that was one of Vegeta's dominant eccentricities. Oblivious to his subtle admirer, Prince began to order and pointed out a dish on the menu, "This..." and then slid his finger further downwards as the waiter took them down, "This…"

"Very good selections, sir. If that would be all, your food will-"

"This and this..." Prince continued laxly, flipping over to the next page to order more.

Two pairs of eyes bulged as they gaped at the blonde-haired man's extravagant amount of orders. Prince felt eyes on him and looked up. He stared between them and frowned before turning to fix a glare on the waiter as if the boy had offended him.

"Is there a problem?" he expressed agitatedly through gritted teeth.

"P-pardon me, sir, but that's four full meals already," the waiter stammered, swallowing and looking nervously at the woman for help. She politely waved him off and told him it was fine. After all, if a man could order that many dishes, it would be safe to assume that he could handle it.

She hoped he could handle it.

Disturbed by the awkward silence the two permeated, Prince simply picked one more dish off the list which he knew would fill his stomach and then put down the menu. He pushed the booklet to the side and rested his forearms on the table, lacing his fingers together.

"Give me a cup of decaf," he ordered before briskly waving off the waiter. Then as an afterthought, he called the boy back and demanded, "Remove _all_ carrots from the meals."

The woman, who was taking a sip of water at the time, nearly choked at the odd request. In fact, it was so odd that there was only _one_ other person whom she knew intimately who'd make such a demand, and that was her husband. She drank more water to calm herself down. All these coincidences are too uncanny to be coincidental.

"I take it you don't like carrots?" she queried warily.

A winged brow raised, clear amusement written all over Prince's face. He brought his own glass of water to his lips and before taking a sip, replied with a smirk, "With a passion."

"Hah…" she drawled out her consent, subtly scrutinising his features at the same time. The man's face screamed Vegeta yet they were too different to be him. She thought about all the possibilities there was; a logical explanation of how could one person look like another and yet does not – twins, doppelgangers, and strangers with identical features. The latter seemed plausible but she wasn't convinced. A small frown graced her lips as she put down her drink. She concluded that if his physical features couldn't tell a story, maybe he would.

"I believe my saviour has a name?" the woman eyed him, magnetically gazing into his eyes as she asked.

He paused, not missing the look she was giving him. He found it hard to look away as her eyes seemed to be doing things to him. He shifted uncomfortably at that revelation and contemplated if he should reveal his identity. After a few moments of consideration, he decided to just roll with it. He took in a sharp breath and casually introduced himself, "Prince."

She stared and inclined her head questionably, as if expecting something more. She waited to see if he would go on with his name, but he didn't. Prince raised a brow at her inquisitively before narrowing his eyes.

"Is it just Prince or Prince 'something else'?" she voiced out her curiosity.

The man lowered his head as he felt a smirk coming. He cleared his throat and dryly replied, "Just Prince."

The woman's red-coloured lips slowly curled upwards and then she flashed him the most brilliant smile, and his heart fluttered at once again the familiarity of it. He thought, was this the last piece to his puzzling dream – this face to match the smile that had been haunting him for the last three years? He swallowed hard, his finger itching to touch her face and hold her close to him, as if she was an apparition that would disappear if he hadn't.

"For a second there I thought you were royalty," she said cheekily and shrugged, "My misfortune."

But Prince didn't see the humour in her remark and merely stared back at her with much indifference. The woman realised this and quickly eased the tension. The last thing she needed was for the man to get up and leave. "I'm just kidding!" she blurted out awkwardly with a dry chuckle, "But man, your parents sure must have some sense of humour."

"They're dead," Prince replied in a serious manner and all prior tension returned, causing the woman to shift uneasily in her seat. She lowered her gaze and murmured an apology.

A sudden twinge of regret waved through him when she apologised. He didn't mean to put her in an uncomfortable position, so he changed his stance. He cleared his throat again and then gently clarified, "I've never met them, so I wouldn't know anyway. Don't kick yourself for it."

Bright blue eyes shone his way, followed by a small smile. She didn't know what to make of his statement but she did feel a little better. Her lips parted as she was about to speak but the waiter's appearance along with the aroma of their meal interrupted her. She murmured something to the waiter as he placed their food down on the table and then thanked him before the boy scurried off.

In those few unguarded moments, Prince wisely utilised that several seconds to study her features and imprint them permanently into his mind. When she finally looked back at him, his eyes were already averted to something less fascinating – like the tiny blemish on the white table cloth that just could not be unseen now.

While the male seemed to have taken an odd interest for the table top, the female decided it was time she introduced herself. Furthermore, it was important for her to know more than just his name.

"I'm Briefs," she said with a smile.

Prince returned her gaze and his left eye twitched, and in that split second, his teal eyes glazed over as yet again another vision birthed in his mind.

xxxx

_**I don't know but I think I may be fallin' for you**_

_**Dropping so quickly, maybe I should keep this to myself**_

_**Waiting 'til I know you better**_

_**Fallin' For You – Colbie Cailat**_

"_Bulma Briefs. And yourself?" the blue-haired woman introduced herself, pushing a stray fringe behind an ear as she sat across from the clean-cut soldier, Vegeta._

_They've decided to meet at the local coffee shop just on the outskirts of the main capital. It was the perfect spot as it was not too far from her work place or his condominium. As developed as West City was, driving to the place was essential as public transportation wasn't a norm in that part of the suburb. And for some reason, Bulma had decided to not encapsulate her vehicle but park her car a few blocks down the road instead. She thought it'd be a great night to take a nice, slow, quiet stroll back to her car… together._

_The summer's night was humid and the coffee shop's air conditioner was a saving grace. To beat the heat further, Bulma wore a thin-strap peach pleated summer dress stitched with three small flower embroideries on the neckline, which contrast showed off her long turquoise tresses. She'd even complemented her choice of dressing by throwing in a pair of ivory white flip-flops._

_Meanwhile, the man donned a simple tight-fitting dark blue shirt that hugged his muscles and narrow v-shaped torso perfectly, with his camo jacket tossed clumsily across his thighs. While he wasn't one for fashion, he had decided to put in the effort and went with a pair of black relaxed-fit jeans and rusty dark brown sneakers._

"_Drosera," he murmured laxly, leaning into the back of his chair before repeating, "Vegeta… Drosera."_

"_Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Drosera," Bulma greeted and reached out for a customary handshake._

"_Vegeta will do," he clarified, taking her small, soft hand into his large, callous palm and giving it a light shake. He liked the feel of her skin._

"_I'm really sorry about your shirt," she apologised again, taking a sip of coffee as she leaned forward and closer to him, "I take it you burned it and realised it wasn't real cotton?"_

_Vegeta felt the under-layer of his cheeks starting to burn but somehow he still managed to keep them in check. No woman had ever successfully put him on the pedestal for the socially awkward before… until her. And he must say, she was pretty good at it even though it came natural to her._

"_Seams that way," he emphasised wittily, hoping that she would catch on. He sipped on his own drink slowly, appreciating the burnt auburn roast._

"_HA!" she burst out and giggled excitedly. Somewhat impressed, she quickly reciprocated with her own pun, "That was knot funny."_

"_It was sew. You laughed, didn't you?" Vegeta replied cooly as he stifled a snicker. He never expected her to have caught on so fast and had even played along. Needless to say, he was more than impressed._

_Bulma shook her head at their silliness, her ruby lips still curled up in a big smile. No man had ever tried testing her wits the way this man just did. They never dared and she inwardly applauded him. This made her stomach flutter. She then cleared her throat and resumed their previous topic, "How did you know about that fabric burn theory anyway?"_

_The man shrugged and replied, "Research and lots of free time."_

_At this, she pressed her lips together and raised a questioning brow. She leaned into her chair, taking the cup with her and cheekily asked, "So it wasn't a scientific second-hand pick-up line just because I am a scientist?"_

_She crossed a shapely leg over the other, her sandal dangling freely from her toes. Vegeta was taken aback by her accusation, which caused Bulma to grin with a mischievous glint playing in the depth of her eyes. _

_Her eyes narrowed warily when he offered little to no response. So she leaned closer and inclined her head. Then in all honesty, she asked, "You do know what I do for a living, right?"_

_Vegeta ceased all movements save for his quick, suspicious mind. He wondered if that was a trick question. He considered admitting that he hadn't recognised her was until he saw her on TV, but after a severe five-second deep deliberation, he shrugged and said as a matter-of-factly, "Who doesn't?"_

_Bulma sucked in her bottom lip and smiled sheepishly. She, too, shrugged and said simply, "Paparazzi. They dig deep but don't really tell past the exterior."_

"_They're public nuisance."_

_Bulma chuckled, "Tell me about it, but I've stopped avoiding them after some time. Instead, I give them as little as I can. Nothing more than what I do at work."_

"_Hn," Vegeta grumbled in agreement. Not knowing what else to comment, he took another sip of coffee._

"_What about you? I see you're a soldier of the West," she stated confidently._

_Vegeta raised a brow as he wondered how in the world she knew that. And as if she read his mind, she nodded towards the garment on his legs, causing him to frown at himself. She added, "Jacket with the Western emblem. What is your rank, soldier?"_

"_Captain. But I'm aiming to lead my own battalion one day."_

_Bulma bit her lip as she mentally put his rank and name together. 'Captain Vegeta Drosera'. She spaced out at what she had pieced together and her mind involuntarily brought her to one fine afternoon far back in time._

"_Drosera," she suddenly said, her eyes shining at the familiarity of it. "Major General Drosera; he was your-"_

"_He was my father, yes," Vegeta said quickly. He had anticipated that she or anyone influential would recognise his high-ranking late sire._

_A tinge of recognition played out and her eyes sparkled. She straightened up excitedly and flashed him a warm smile. "It was you, wasn't it?" she breathed out, garnering a perplexed reaction from Vegeta, "You came with the_ _General that afternoon. You were the boy who was at my house."_

_Vegeta's brows stitched together and his eyes narrowed as he strained to remember. Moments later, recollections of the Capsule Corp. Dome hit him and he recalled it all. He was merely ten years old, having just celebrated his birthday a week prior. It was that morning when his father had decided that he was old enough to see what his old man did for a living. So he was dragged to one of his father's boring meetings with someone whom he, at that time, only knew as 'the weapon man'. The same man who ironically happened to be the world's renowned scientist, Dr. Briefs, who also happened to be this woman's father._

_It was such a small world. Fate thought she was being funny. Who would have thought?_

_He hadn't wanted to attend the meeting but his father had threatened to take him out of school for two months and enlist him into a holiday camp programme where he'd be imposed to the tortures and torments of having to socialise with annoying camp-worshipping kids. So he immediately shot out of bed, dressed up, and was out the front door within minutes, sulking. Though he knew his dad had not meant what he said, he never wanted to take the chance._

_Vegeta frowned at that memory. It wasn't the best times yet it was one of those moments where he would do it all over again in a heartbeat, considering that he lost his old man to the war two years after that._

"_I've only been there once. Never again," he said regrettably, his eyes glazed over with the memories of his dad._

_Bulma pursed her lips. Oblivious to his inner grief, she light-heartedly asked, "How come?"_

"_I have my reasons," he answered instantly, keeping his eyes on her as he took another sip of coffee._

"_We could have been friends then," she said softly, her lips curling into a small smile as she had similar thoughts about how fate had brought them together many years later today._

_He snorted and then sheepishly added, "You would have hated me."_

_She smirked at the response, turning her head to the side as she eyed him suspiciously. "Now what made you think that way, considering that we've only exchanged _one_ glance that afternoon?"_

_He fixed his sight upon her face, looking squarely into her eyes. Not once in his life, ever since that afternoon, had he thought he'd relive that day; he never thought that the trivial 'secret' he had kept from everyone his whole life would be revealed today, as childish as it may be._

_He leaned back and propped his elbow on the armrest, cupping his chin to hide his mouth behind his palm. He parted his lips and then clamped it shut. His fingers waved uncertainly as he struggled to find the right words to say. "Do you remember ever losing a blonde-haired doll?"_

_It was Bulma's turn to frown, her eyes lowered to a random spot on the table as her mind wandered into the past. She had many toys and dolls in her life, and her collection only grew with time, even till this day. Moments later, her eyes widened with realisation as she recalled two days after that afternoon, she discovered a dismantled, broken doll under the living room couch._

"_Pink dress with bright blue polka dots," she uttered warily, closely observing his reaction. Much to her disappointment, there wasn't much._

"_I accidentally stepped on its head and crushed it," he admitted, not a twinge of regret in his voice; not batting an eyelid._

_Bulma bit her bottom lip and flashed him a piercing gaze. Her expression was unreadable and Vegeta, determined to face the hole he'd dug for himself, was prepared for a verbal onslaught from this stranger._

'_Stop. fucking. this. up,' He crooned bitterly in his head, repeating it all over and over again as he shook his foot restlessly._

"_I noticed its lack of a head when I found its body under the couch where you __**hid**__ it," she said with an underlying tone, although she was fighting to maintain a stoic face._

"_More like __**kicked**__ it," Vegeta replied bluntly, slowly coming to understand how to communicate with this woman._

"_Didn't you know a girl treasures her dolls? That was my favourite," she stated light-heartedly, finding some sort of twisted delight in the direction of where this conversation was headed._

_Amused, Vegeta blithely defended, "It wasn't my fault. You left your toys all over the place."_

"_Well, I say that it was when you decided not to tell anyone about it. It still is," she argued adamantly, at the same time taunting him with a smug smirk as she drank her coffee._

"_Did you get it replaced right after you found it?" Vegeta questioned, his forearms resting against his thighs as he leaned forward to play with the rim of his coffee cup._

"_I -no- yes, I did get it replaced," Bulma stammered and admitted sheepishly, "… but not right after."_

_Vegeta smirked as he drank his coffee. He looked at her seriously and pressed, "Before that, then?"_

_Bulma pursed her lips and averted her gaze. Shamefully, she nodded her head. Vegeta snorted in amusement, shaking his head as he put his cup down and said, "Then it wasn't really your favourite."_

"… _I suppose not," the woman murmured before turning a 180-degree in attitude and the topic was instantly changed._

"_That was the day the General and I talked for the first time. He told me something; something that I don't think I can or will ever forget," she stated softly, her eyes glazing over as her mind travelled back in time._

_Quietly, Vegeta observed her thoughtful expression. He never knew his father to be one for engaging in enlightening conversations with a child other than his own; what more, the child of his affiliate. He could barely remember meeting a young Bulma on that day, much less of his father ever talking to anybody else, save for Dr. Briefs. He figured it was during the time when boredom struck him and he went to comb the large dome. At that time, he didn't think he'd miss out on so much. And just for that very reason, he was curious to know what his old man had said to this young lady._

_He leaned back and propped his elbows on the armrest, a hand covering the bottom of his face as he focused on her. He imagined a buoyant blue-headed little girl talking to his father about advanced weaponry, or perhaps, life. He smirked behind his fingers at that thought._

"_What did he say?" he queried softly, his eyes set on capturing every movement of her lips so that he wouldn't miss her words._

_Bulma inclined her head a little and smiled, "We talked a little about science and my interests. And then he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up," and she trailed off again, a tinge of red coloured her cheeks._

_Amused, Vegeta pressed with a small smile, "What was it?"_

_She bit her bottom lip and smiled shyly. Her eyes darted aimlessly to avoid his penetrating gaze and her cheeks burned a redder hue, "I'm not telling you. You'll laugh."_

_Unable to suppress his amusement any longer, Vegeta chuckled and then firmly reassured her, "I won't."_

_Bulma contemplated hard and then finally decided to just roll with it. After all, what harm was there in letting him know? So she relayed, articulating her words slowly, "I've always wanted to be the best role model in the likes of which the world has never seen."_

_Vegeta's smile faltered and his lips parted slightly. He locked his gaze on her, observing her soft features as he inwardly commended her. He never expected such powerful aspirations to come from such a fragile frame. Then his dark brown eyes softened and he swallowed. He asked in a hushed, controlled tone; as if he was afraid to know, "And what did my father say to that?"_

_Smiling delicately, she watched him with the most intense of warm, blue eyes, further stunning him into a deeper, admiration state, and softly said, "He told me that 'the world needs more people like you. And when you're all grown up and ready, I'll personally send you the right man to help you achieve that.'"_

_Vegeta lowered his gaze, envisioning his father speaking to a little girl – the same little girl who had grown up into this dazzling young lady right in front of him – about future and life. As much as he would like to avoid delving deeper into his father's words of 'sending her the right man', he couldn't deny that it was more than just luck that led Bulma into his life. He looked back up and took in her beautiful face. It was destiny._

"_I never saw him again after that," Bulma sadly added as an afterthought. Vegeta nodded, knowing by heart that his father was immediately deployed for two years and returned in a casket._

"_Do not grief. He died an honourable death."_

_At this, Bulma smiled and nodded in agreement. A moment of silence was given before the two newly reacquainted friends moved on to more jovial topics. They talked about everything they could think of and Vegeta must say, this was the first time he had ever engaged so deeply with a person. Firstly, her topics did not bore him and she seemed to take his opinions seriously. Perhaps it was her curious, scientific mind that needed to comprehend all that was thrown at her, but nevertheless, she gave him the attention that no other woman had and that was what he found most intriguing._

"_Oh, gosh, it's nearly eleven! I've an early start tomorrow, I have to go!" Bulma groaned as she read her watch, and then said apologetically, "I'm really sorry to have to cut this short."_

_Vegeta shook his head and assured that it was fine, and that he had to leave anyway. So they both got up and headed out into the streets. They stood outside of the closing café, lingering and waiting awkwardly for the other bid goodbye. He waited for her to decapsulate her car but when he heard her digging for her keys, he smirked. 'Cunning little creature', he thought, 'she had it all planned out'. He cleared his throat and broke the silence._

"_I'll walk you to your car," he offered, shrugging on his jacket. Bulma perked up visibly but diplomatically declined for show._

"_Oh, don't worry about me. My car is only a few blocks down from here. Not a very long walk."_

"_No problem. My car's there as well," Vegeta uttered, strangely finding it difficult to part ways._

_Bulma flashed him a sceptical look, but otherwise said nothing. A smile then curled at the corner of her lip and she conceded, motioning her head to the direction of their desired path, "Alright, let's go."_

_Vegeta and Bulma walked side by side, strolling down the quiet stretch of street under the cloudy night. Their path was illuminated only by the soft, glowing street lamps. They treaded forward in a slow pace and although no words were exchanged, both were undoubtedly enjoying the comfortable silence as they lose themselves in their own thoughts._

_After 15 minutes of walking, they rounded a corner. A soft distant rumble was heard and Bulma looked up to the skies. The first droplet of rain since the start of summer descended from the dark cloud, scoring a direct hit on a mop of blue hair. The woman felt the drop and raised a palm, capturing the rest of the falling drizzles. She made a face and murmured to herself, "Looks like summer is finally over."_

_Vegeta tilted his head up as well and looked around, immersing his senses into the gloomy night sky. 'Of all nights, you have to rain on my parade now?' he mentally chided with a frown. "It looks like it's going to pour. We'd better hurry."_

_Just then, the sky roared and the gentle drizzle transformed into a raging downpour. Bulma let a strangled shriek of excitement bordering surprise. Jostled into action, Vegeta began to run. The advantage of having a more resilient body put him in the front of Bulma. He jogged forward but turned around and held out his hand for her to take. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed it and together, they sprinted under the heavy rain towards their destination._

_In the midst of their thrill, Vegeta hadn't missed the softness of her hand in his callous palm. Raindrops sifted between their entwined fingers as they ran, and he inadvertently tightened his grasp for the fear of her slipping away. Bulma yelped and laughed every time she stepped into a puddle while trying to keep up with Vegeta. Every time she did that, he would slow down a notch for her to catch up, and there'd be that split second moment when they'd catch each other's eyes._

_And just as they did for the third time, Bulma saw her car and near-yanked her hand out of Vegeta's grasp, making a beeline dash for it. Vegeta came to a crawl and watched her unlock the vehicle. She ceased running and stood under the rain, stopping by the driver's side door with her back towards him. He stopped at an arm's length behind her and curiously waited for her to move or say something._

_After what seemed like forever, Bulma turned around and caught his gaze. She grinned and laughed at the fact that they were both drenched and uncaring. He chuckled at their silliness and the sudden desire to touch her again urged him._

"_F.Y.I., I can drink coffee at any time of the day!" she called through the noisy rain. She had to make it known to him that he could call her out anytime for a cuppa._

_Amuse, he raised a brow and smiled wryly. Then he threw back, "Won't that keep you awake?"_

_She shrugged, that crazy grin still on her face, "Yes! But I'm a looney scientist, remember? I thrive on coffee!"_

_Vegeta lowered his head, shaking it as his smile broadened, "Okay!" and nodded in agreement._

_Absorbed in her giddiness, Vegeta's expression faltered as he observed the way she bit her lip and how her tongue licked off the droplets of rain that rolled over those plush cushions. He had never seen a more simple yet attractive gesture, and not only did he want to hold her against him, he also wanted to taste her. He swallowed and bit his inner cheeks, and thought, 'This can't be good.'_

"_Until next time, then?" she prompted._

_He gazed into her blue eyes as his mind swirled with a thousand questions. And out of those thousand_ _questions, only one stood out like a sore thumb._

_Would he want to see her again?_

_The sky rumbled loudly as if answering a 'yes' to the blue-haired lady for him. Yes, he would_ _want to see her again but regardless of how badly he wanted to scream that to her face, the answer at the moment had to be, "Until next time."_

_Happy and satisfied, Bulma turned to get into the car and out of the rain, not at all bothered that her expensive cushioned seat was getting drenched. Vegeta watched her door slam shut and caught his own reflection on the driver's side window. Then the engine roared and the same window was lowered to reveal Bulma's pretty face._

"_Goodnight, soldier," she bid with a shady salute, which for some reason, Vegeta found it to be awfully charming when she did it._

_Greatly amused, he straightened and casually stood at attention, saluting her in his own way with a smirk, "Goodnight, ma'am."_

_She flashed him another smile and then peeled out of the parking lot. Vegeta kept his eyes on the back of her sports car. She stopped at the intersection, then took a left, and was finally out of sight. He released the breath he never knew he was holding and lowered his gaze to the wet ground. The rain was getting heavier and he was completely drenched, but even the rain could never compare to the emotions he was drowning in on the inside._

_He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he stared at the stream of water flowing rapidly down the gutter. He sighed, emblazoning her beautiful face into his mind for safekeeping. He needed time to think and time to decide; but most importantly he needed time to decipher and determine his sudden growing feelings for this girl._

_He couldn't have fallen for her this quickly… or could he?_

_Just then, a passing vehicle zipped by and splashed through a puddle, missing him by an inch and snapping him out of his muse. He scowled at the car before looking up bitterly at the pouring sky. Inhaling sharply, he fished out a capsule and stared at it for a few seconds. He pressed the top and then threw it to the street, watching his armoured SUV poof into sight. He climbed into his vehicle and headed for home. He was almost sure that his sleep tonight, and perhaps many more nights to come, would be filled with a certain blue-haired woman and nothing else._

xxxx

"-a two-week convention at the hotel where I'm stayi-"

"I'll walk you to your car," Prince mumbled out loud, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the gravel walkway through the window. He hadn't realised he'd said it and had unknowingly cut her off midsentence.

"Excuse me?" Bulma's brows stitched together, not quite sure if she'd heard what she thought he said.

Prince shook his head and refocused on her, and then covered up his slip-up with the first thing that came to mind, "I saw a car..." Though his face was expressionless, he mentally slapped himself for that blunder, and even more so with that cover-line. "Nevermind."

Bulma flashed him a sceptical look, squinting her eyes at him but otherwise refrained from commenting further. Clearly, she'd heard what he said, but having him repeating it and then getting something else only meant that he wasn't supposed to say what he said. And besides, those words held such an astonishing familiarity that was uncannily incomprehensible. She was certain she'd heard it before somewhere at some point of time in her life.

They kept quiet for a moment. Prince went back to being busy, doing a solo on the third plate of his five-course meal while Bulma took the opportunity to scrutinise him without being too intrusive. The man certainly had features that were very much like Vegeta's, albeit his jaw line, chin, and nose were a little more profound than her husband's. And Vegeta never had teal eyes or blonde hair but she factored in the possibility of coloured lenses and hair-dye. Even men do that sometimes… right? Or he could have been born that way.

Bulma very quietly analysed his body, or whatever skin that was exposed, as she searched for tell tale signs or markings like scars, tattoos, or birthmarks, basically ones that Vegeta had. These findings could easily indicate that this man wasn't who he proclaimed himself to be, but such markings could only be seen beneath his clothes and she was not about to ask this stranger to undress for her. She could never live that down.

She pressed her lips together, thankful that he had his gaze averted the entire time. Once finished with all the inspection she could make, she very wisely took the opportunity to change table topics, only because the silence was beginning to agitate her. She looked down at her half-empty bowl of salad and played with a piece of lettuce with her fork. Her mind swarmed with suspicions and questions, but she did not dare voice them out lest she frightened the man away. If that happened, she would never get her answers for sure.

No. She would have to play this out properly even if she had to walk on eggshells all night long. She placed her fork down gently and took a sip of water in a dainty manner. Prince paused whatever it was he was doing and suddenly felt the need to observe her. Swallowing slowly, she then cleared her throat and flashed him a smile, and tactically began another decent conversation, "So, what do you do for a living?"

He kept a steady gaze on her. She was a Briefs, also infamously known as his boss' nemesis. Only those discerning few in the underground community knew of Dr. Gero's hatred for the family. Hence, a part of him wondered if she had just presented him with a trick question while another part was unable to form a valid argument that she meant any ill intent. After all, he could never be too careful in his _line_ of work. The mad doctor would not appreciate his secrets being revealed to anyone, especially to another fellow scientist, what more a Briefs. But was that _his_ problem? He weighed his options and contemplated between telling a lie and the truth; and after a few moments, he decided to go with both.

"I'm _somewhat_ a scientific-mechanical engineer."

As soon as those words left his mouth, it was Bulma's turn to eye him. She bit her inner lip and then lowered her gaze to the sauce plate on the table. Her brain worked its gears as she tuned out the restaurant's incoherent chatters and clinking of cutleries.

A part of her was disappointed that his profession was not even remotely close to what Vegeta used to do. Another part of her speculated the possibility of the fact that even Prince was not aware of his true identity, much less hers. There must be a way to confirm that such speculation was true, and Bulma'd be damned if she didn't do her research on this man now that she'd stumbled upon him. Ever since the purported death of her husband, Prince was the first man she'd met who could hold a candle to Vegeta. She had never met anyone else who resembled her husband as much as Prince did.

She blinked and focused on her dining partner. He was hiding something and she knew it, she just didn't know what it was. Deciding to play along, she narrowed her eyes and her ruby-coloured lip smirked at him, "_Somewhat_, Mr. Prince? Being a scientist or mechanical engineer is all about evidence, logic, and numbers; and they are the closest things to the handwriting of God. So it's either you are or you are not," she said, her smirk curling up into a full grin, "I am a scientist and inventor myself, dispensing only the best and revolutionised inventions on a global scale. So if may I ask; what exactly do you specialise in?"

"Weapons," he replied briskly, causing a delicate blue brow to rise in question.

"Weapons… for the military?" she drawled out.

"No. Mass destruction," he said with a smirk, and this time, causing two blue brows to rise and eyes bulge in surprise.

"I hope you are joking," she breathed out and leaned forward, darting her blue eyes around to see if anyone heard the trail of their conversation. Her fingers toyed anxiously with the ring-like pendant of her necklace, a habit she picked up whenever something unsettled her.

"What do you think?" he teased as he peered forward, his voice lowered to her level and his smirk still plastered on his face. Somehow his hand had reached out and parked itself beside her elbow that was propped on the table. His fingers feathered lightly at the bony tip and, without looking down, she consciously focused on his touch. Her brows stitched together and her mind wandered; this was one of Vegeta's intimate quirks.

"I think that… you're not telling me something," she whispered, her fingers itching to touch the man's arm.

"Everyone is entitled to their own deep, dark secrets," he whispered back, his eyes boring intensely into hers, "Question is; how far are you willing to go before you get the answers you need?"

She bit her inner cheeks then parted and clamped her dry lips. She wondered if he had just insinuated that she would throw herself at any man to get the information she needed. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she spat, "Do not mock me. I can and I will go to great lengths to get what I want and what I need, and I do not need to lower myself or be manipulated into doing something I don't want to just to get them," she finished, licking her lips as she stared squarely at the man. She sniffed and frowned, "What about you? Are you saying that you would?"

"… That depends," unfazed, he responded curtly with a smirk, his eyes stuck on her.

"On what?"

"If you're worth it."

Bulma blinked and then lowered her eyes to his hand that was still next to her elbow, her cheeks flushed with a ripe peach colour. He followed her gaze and caught sight of his intrusive touch. Realising that he had probably done something that he shouldn't have, he quickly retracted his hand which inadvertently made the situation even more awkward.

Meanwhile, Bulma deliberately focused on anywhere else but him. She turned her attention to her watch, noting that it was already 11pm and briefly wondered if he would be interested in a drink or two after dinner. There was just so much that she needed to know about him. Seeing that she was distracted, Prince took the opportunity to finish up the remainder of his meal.

As he chewed on his food, his mind wandered back to the last vision he'd had; anything to push away the tension between him and the woman. The bald man he pictured was awfully familiar and he knew he'd seen him before. His brows knitted and frustration was clear on his face. Now he remembered that he was struggling to pinpoint the guy before they entered this joint.

However, Bulma mistook his silence and aggravated behaviour for something else as she assumed his irritation was her doing. The misconstrued notion made her chest tighten and she retreated into her shell of defence, taking her eyes off him completely.

Oblivious to her internal dejection, Prince created a conscious block to his surroundings and practically wolfed down his food while chugging down water. Bulma quietly watched him as she picked on her miserable salad that was destined to stay unfinished. He made her feel like he just couldn't wait to be rid of her. She inwardly berated herself as she thought that she had probably screwed up somewhere throughout their conversation. She frowned – there was no way she was going to lose contact with this man. She just had to keep him interested long enough to stick around, if only for a little while more, but only in ways where she didn't have to depreciate herself.

"I should be going," he said hastily, wiping the stains off his mouth none too gently. She nodded and without a word, flagged down a waiter to bring forth their cheque.

Bulma paid the bill and Prince merely gave a nod of thanks. She responded with a smile that carried a hint of sadness and something more, one which did not go by unnoticed. He briefly wondered what it meant. Together they exited the restaurant and walked the streets back to the direction from where they came, only this time, they walked side by side. He didn't need to say it out loud, but his subtle actions were enough to indicate that he'd walk her back to her hotel. After all, the Eastern Palace Hotel wasn't too far from where they were.

"This is me," Bulma strained when they finally reached the doorstep of the grand hotel. She had hoped to spend a more time with Prince simply because she wanted to get to know him more; to remember Vegeta and to piece together the puzzles in her mind. But he had made it clear that it was time to part ways. Perhaps another day; perhaps tomorrow.

Prince tilted his head upwards, running his eyes up the spanning hotel exterior walls and causing his muscular neck to stretch and veins bulge from that angle. He analysed the building carefully, imprinting the structure of it into his mind. Bulma, on the other hand, took the chance to observe him a little more. She studied his overall features once again. Maybe there was something that she'd missed. Much to her disappointment, there weren't many pieces for her to debunk her suspicions. She needed more than that – something more concrete; and she was determined to pull up this man's profile later in her room.

"Which floor are you on?" the man murmured, snapping Bulma out of her daydream. She blinked a few times and without questioning his motives, answered him. Deep down, she was hoping that he'd find her instead.

"The 36th floor, Presidential Suite 2."

"Hn," he grunted and nodded in acknowledgement.

After spotting the level of her suite, he looked back at her. Now that he knew where to find this woman, he could take his leave without worrying about not being able to locate her later. Somehow, he knew that he would not see the last of her. But for now, there was something else he needed to take care of, namely the man in his vision.

One last lingering look at Prince and Bulma knew that she should not let him walk away, at least not without leaving a number or an agreement to meet again. She would not make the same mistake she did with Vegeta all those years ago. After all her years spent searching through sweat and tears, mostly tears, she would be her worst enemy if she let Prince go.

She cleared her throat and offered with a smile, "As you know, I'm holding a two-week science and engineering conference in the hotel; that's why I'm here in the first place. A handful of some of the world's renowned scientists will be there, so from one scientist to another, I would like to extend an invitation to you to attend my talk on weapon technology," she started, boring her sparkling blue eyes into his duller shade of azure. "It's the day after tomorrow at 8pm. I'd be presenting the renewed prototype based off the recent laser system, which a field-test demonstration would be held at a later date. I think you'd find it really interesting and it'll be an honour if you could make it."

She waited expectantly for a respond, her fingers clutching the strap of her bag nervously as she hoped with bated breath for him to accept her invitation.

His eyes held hers as he appeared to be in deep thought. He factored in the long talk, possibly about things he already knew, and then the pompous crowd of self-proclaim geniuses who would no doubt try to strike up conversations of who is the better scientist. After a few moments of consideration, he said, "I'll think about it."

After saying that, he expected her to be disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm towards the whole thing but instead she flashed him a reassuring smile. "It'll be great, I promise."

Prince nodded in agreement and Bulma backed away slowly on her heels, their gazes locked. The stranger was pulling her in so deep, she hadn't realised the smile that was still plastered on her face. All she knew was that she simply didn't want the night to end so abruptly. She mouthed '_see ya_' before pivoting on her heel to enter the hotel lobby. The golden-haired stranger stared at her retreating form, admiring the soft swaying of her cascading blue tresses for the last time that night. The second the lavish glass double doors closed after her, he wasted no time and turned away, storming off into the nearest dark alley and flying away into the dark night sky without a trace. He was gone in a blink of an eye.

Once Bulma was inside, she whipped around and hoped to catch his eyes once more. But he was no longer there. Her breath hitched in her throat and she stared sightlessly at the spot where he last stood, its void being filled with flashes of random passersby. She sighed and wandered off into the lobby, her mind filled with images of Prince and Vegeta. She collected her bearings and without further ado, spun on her three-inch high heels and carefully jogged towards the elevator that led to the Presidential Suite wing.

The moment she reached the 36th floor, she practically sprinted towards her room, the key card already in hand and ready to swipe down the access panel. Upon entering the main living lounge, she threw her bag and room card onto the nearest couch and proceeded into the master bedroom, her delicate fingers dialling a familiar number on her cell phone.

* * *

_**0500 hours in West City…**_

In an opulent condominium located in the heart of the city, a couple slumbered peacefully after a night of sweltering sex. A dainty, feminine hand was draped across the man's torso, moving slowly in accordance to the rising and falling of a well-developed chest.

Low vibrations from the man's mobile phone shook the night stand for a full minute and a dark eye popped open. Frowning sleepily, he reached out for it and without glancing at the screen, answered it.

"Yeah?" a man's voice laden with sleep cracked in greeting.

"Yamcha!" the voice in the phone bellowed excitedly.

"Bulma? What time is it?" Yamcha asked, prying the woman's hand off him as he turned to squint at the digital clock on the wall. Worried, he pressed on, sensually rubbing the woman's hand that found its way back around his stomach at the same time, "Is everything okay there? It's kinda late."

"Yes- no- I- Yamcha, listen. I think…" she drifted off, taking in deep breaths as she struggled to keep her thoughts and anxiety in check, "… I think I found _him_."

Alarmed and confused by now, Yamcha detached himself completely from his bed warmer, shushing her angrily with a finger when she began to whine. He pushed himself up, settling gingerly on the edge of the bed as he warily asked, "Found… who?

At first he was met with only silence, the only sounds he could hear were Bulma's irregular breathing and the distant blaring of horns from the streets down below his condo unit.

"Bulma, who did you find?" he repeated, his voice filled with urgency, causing his receiver to snap out of her trance.

Then he heard it.

"… Vegeta," she shakily breathed out, "I think I found him."

It was the name he hoped to never hear again.

His grit his teeth and set his jaw in a tight clench, his large hand wiping the sleep and evident frustration off of his face. He pressed, "… Are you sure?"

"I don't know," Bulma huffed on the other hand. He could hear her pacing about anxiously, "I don't even know how to explain. It's like it _isn't him_, but _it's him_! And I know because I can _feel_ it!" she babbled, feeling excited and nervous at the same time.

Yamcha's dark brown eyes glared at a random spot on his carpeted floor. His pulse raced not in anxiety but rather in anger. He was already despising the direction this conversation was headed. Taking in deep, steady breaths, he calmly asked through his teeth, "How does he look like?"

Bulma wasted no time in describing Prince to her friend, making detailed comparisons to her husband as she went, "He's slightly taller in stature and bulkier in size; more muscular. His features are much sharper, too, and he has shocking blonde hair and an odd eye colour that I can't even begin to describe! I know it's weird, and I know that you may not believe me, but if there is anyone in this world who I can recognise in an instant _is_ Vegeta. And that man I met… that man is the closest thing to him. I'll just need to confirm a few things and I'll know. Please say you don't think I'm making this up."

On the other end, Yamcha remained quiet as he tried containing his anger. To Bulma, his silence made it seem like he was merely constructing the right things to say. Feeling neglected, the woman in his bed traced the contour of his spine with her finger in hopes to catch his attention, unknowingly infuriated him further on top of his anger towards the mentioning of his long-term crush's ex spouse. He whipped around and roughly swatted her hand away, sending her a rude glower to silence her. Satisfied that the woman finally took the hint, he turned away and cleared his throat.

"Bulma," he started slowly and then sighed, "I'm sorry, I don't want to say this but are you listening to yourself?"

He heard her sigh heavily through the phone; he knew she was disappointed. But he needed to be sure that Bulma understood that she could not possibly meet with this man again. It would not be healthy for her, him, or might he add, even Vegeta. It wouldn't be fair.

It never was.

Yamcha had always been there right from the beginning.

A young lad fresh out of college at the age of 21 escaped from the outskirts and into the city with high hopes of getting a job in the concrete jungle. It was everyone's dream to work amid the affluent West City, what more in the largest, most powerful organisation in the world. So when he landed his first job in Capsule Corporation, even as a mere lab's assistant, it had been the best thing to ever befall him. With an exposure like that, he could only imagine the job offers that would eventually flood his mailbox soon after, lab assistant or not.

He was immediately assigned to clean up after the scientists and engineers in the main laboratory. In there, only the top scientists and engineers worked remotely and exclusively with one another, away from other sub divisions. On several occasions, he had been given the opportunity to work so intimately with the. He was ecstatic to get privy glimpses of researches, and intricate inventions and prototypes. Needless to say, it was the most over-the-top experience for someone like him.

While the experience was priceless, no one said he would have to learn the ways of his job the hard way. Cleaning beakers and test tubes, and returning them to their rightful shelves were important; understanding the consequences of mishandling chemicals and inventions was also important. But learning how to accept and adapt to the random, volatile, explosive, and horrid mood swings of the company's top people was a matter of life and death.

Capsule Corporation upheld a strict laboratory code of conduct, and should he make one small little mistake, his career would no doubt be compromised. _Fortunately_ for Yamcha, he got to learn from his peer's mistake when his senior lab assistant served as an example of what-not-to-do. The company had fired the man for simply storing the wrong chemicals together, even though he had it rectified almost immediately. _Unfortunately_ for him, when his peer left, he became the _only_ lab assistant there with no proper guidance until further notice. Each day was a challenge, and for as long as he was in that lab, he had better be walking on eggshells, lest suffer the penalty for laboratory misconduct.

Yamcha had always classified himself a ladies' man; tall and dark, and charming when he wanted to. A pretty boy, to be exact; with long hair tied into a ponytail, dark eyes, broad shoulders, and just the right height of an average man. Needless to say, he was eye candy to most girls from his social circle. But ever since he started working in the firm, all he ever wanted was one particular girl, and she was the daughter of the legendary Dr. Briefs; the old man's only precious child.

Bulma Briefs was a young and vibrant lass; groomed by perfection for perfection. She was a dream come true, the kind of woman that every man could only hope for. Her bright blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and her turquoise hair was one of a kind. But these attributes were not what attracted the young man to her; she was simply too beautiful and rare. And of course, she was out of his league; by leaps and bounds, too. Despite all that, he had immediately fallen head over heels for the blue-headed jewel.

To him, she was an ethereal goddess existed for him to worship; but to her, he was just another lab worker. She had never paid him any attention and had never even looked his way. While she may come off as vibrant, friendly, and bubbly, Bulma was indeed a very private person. He had tried striking up idle conversations with her on the rare occasions when he got assigned to assist her but she was always aloof and professional, either too busy to acknowledge him or just wasn't interested.

He told himself that it was the former, and that he'd try to refrain from infringing too much on her space, both work and personal life. Little did he know that she simply had no intention of ever getting to know him past beyond the relation of co-workers.

But all that changed one night.

He had gotten off work late on a Friday evening, working overtime alongside her to meet a demo deadline. They were the only people left in the lab and she had briskly told him that he could leave if he wanted to. Assuming that she simply wanted to be alone to focus on her work, he left after bidding goodbye. He had just stepped out of the building and was crossing the parking lot when he realised that he had left his wallet in the men's washroom. Hoping that no one had spotted it yet, he sprinted all the way back into the building to retrieve it.

Lucky for him, his wallet was exactly where he'd left it; untouched. He breathed a sigh of relief and became slightly more aware of his belongings and surroundings. Silently, he trekked back to the elevator. He walked down the large winding hallway and paused the second his nose picked up a foul scent. He sniffed a few times and realised that it was smoke. He sprung into action and followed the scent, which oddly enough, led him straight to the west side of the building. He started to panic the moment it dawned on him that it was coming from the main lab where Bulma was.

Without wasting any more time, he ran towards it and much to his horror, the corner of the room where Bulma was occupying before was covered in black soot. The table that she was hunched over earlier was caught in flames but she was nowhere to be seen. Several cabinets had fallen over and were lying on the floor at odd angles; and that was when he saw a glimpse of blue caught beneath the metal cupboards. He dashed towards her and managed to pull her free with ease. By the time he carried her out, the building's security team barged in with fire extinguishers.

That night, he saved a multibillionaire's daughter's life. He was rewarded and commended for his actions, and had even gained a friend, for the lack of a better word. Bulma Briefs had smiled at him warmly after waking up at the hospital from a mild concussion, with her family thanking him profusely as bonus. They became close friends after that incident and Yamcha couldn't be any happier.

They became closer at work and after office hours. He saw the way she seemed to value their friendship even though she never stepped past the line, and for that he decided to stick around and see how things progress. He was always there but had never worked up the courage to confess his feelings to her. But one night, as he berated himself on the lack of self-confidence, motivation suddenly sparked within him. He reasoned that he had a stable job and people loved him. Furthermore, Bulma didn't hate him. It was time he did something for himself.

So he picked out the perfect restaurant to take her out to dinner and had even memorised his confession script. His only wish was that she'd accept him. But his first mistake was to assume that she would ever reciprocate his affections. She met him up at the restaurant that evening, donning a sweet lavender dinner dress that complemented her cerulean hair. Her smile was ever so dazzling but there was also something else that made her glow that night. It was a certain, unusual gleam in her eyes.

He knew that something must have happened.

That night was supposed to be the day his future changed for the better, but it became questionable when Bulma told him that she'd met someone. She expressed her feelings about wanting to know more of this mystery man, despite having only met him for a brief ten minutes. Yamcha listened on with feigned interest although he was seething in anger and jealousy inside. The only thing that kept him in check was the fact that she didn't get the man's name, which was a relief to him. And according to her, the mystery man seemed reluctant in wanting to ask her out. At this, Yamcha thought his chances still prevailed. But a week later, he learned that his dreams and hopes of ever being with her shattered in a heartbeat.

The man called her out.

His name was Vegeta. It didn't help much when Yamcha found out that he was a Drosera, who turned out to be the son of one of Dr. Briefs' famous old friends from the military. To top it off, it also turned out that Bulma and that man had some sort of secret history that went way back into their childhood days. What made it worse was that the duo had even more things in common; more than Yamcha could ever dream to have with her. It pained him to know that he was only 'the friend' who was always there, and she would never see him as more than that.

After that night, his days became a blur but he remained in the organisation and continued working alongside of her. _The_ day eventually arrived when she went up to him bearing the inevitable news. She excitedly told him that Vegeta had secured his spot as 'the boyfriend', and all Yamcha did was smile back and congratulate her, even though his heart felt like it dissolved in a bucket full of acidic pain, hatred, jealousy, and anger.

Since that day, he couldn't help but to notice the vast changes in her; the way she radiated and glowed even more as the days progressed. He hated it. Most of all, he hated him. And he'd sneer on the days when _you-know-who_ returned from deployment and she'd skip work just to be out gallivanting with him. Despite all that, he still stuck around, primarily for his job and the money, and secondarily, waiting for the day that she'd be available again.

That was his second mistake.

The only thing that he wished to never happen for her happened. He never expected her to settle down at such a young age; especially not with the notorious Vegeta Drosera. The day she announced her engagement with that infuriating man was the day he thought he lost everything. But the day she said 'I do' was the day his life ended.

Never before had he despised a man so passionately till he wished and prayed for endless malicious intents to strike upon said man.

And then his wish came true.

When they were told that Vegeta had died in the blast in the Middle East, he never thought he'd regret making such a devious and inhumane wish. He thought he'd be happy that his nemesis was finally out of the way because all he needed was to give Bulma the time to mourn and put the grief behind before he'd make his move on her. But when he watched the love of his life crumble to the pits of the earth with every passing day, and despite the fact that she was painfully grieving for a man whom he zealously hated with every fibre of his body, he felt numb.

Little by little, day by day, the years rolled by. He thought she would finally move on. He thought she would finally forget.

That was his third mistake and he never thought he could be more wrong in his entire life.

As delusional as a woman who had lost her spouse could get, Bulma somehow managed to convince herself that Vegeta was still alive, despite all that he or her family had repeatedly told her. She was headstrong and adamant that her husband was still out there alive and well, and had even made it clear that she would one day find him. She also vowed that whoever it was that tore her family apart would pay and suffer the consequences.

"I know you, Bulma – and you are not delusional. Just because someone looks like Vegeta does not make him Vegeta, and whoever that man is, I'm sure he isn't who you think he is."

On the other side of the world, Bulma sagged at his degrading words. She was utterly disheartened. She plunged onto the edge of her plush bed and tiredly buried her face in a hand. Her face crinkled up in uncertainty even though she knew he was probably right.

And he was right. She wasn't crazy.

She _wasn't_ delusional.

Cases of falsified identities and erased memories flooded her head. The man she had just met _could be_ Vegeta. And even if he wasn't, Prince would be the first lead ever to bring her closer to her husband. She had to play by instincts. Somehow, deep down, she knew that there was more to Prince than he led on. There just had to be more.

"Bulma, are you there?" Yamcha's voice resounded off the speakers.

She cleared her throat and huffed out exhaustively, "Yeah… I'm here."

"Hey," he started softly. He was doing everything to try and bring her out of the mistaken belief she had been so hard set on. However, he'd word it differently, "All I'm saying is that you can't simply replace Vegeta with _any man_ you come across who looks like him."

"… He's _not_ just any man," Bulma said softly, the stubbornness in her voice waning with every put-down Yamcha presented her with.

"And he's _not_ Vegeta either," he replied impatiently as he scowled through the phone, not leaving her any room to argue. Bulma thought that he was merely fed up with her and her stubbornness. "Look, I know it's late there and you had an early flight-in this morning, so you must be really tired. You should try and get some sleep."

Sighing, she lied on her back and stared blankly at the ceiling, frowning hard as she absentmindedly nodded to nobody. "I guess."

"Alright, I'll call you in the morning?"

"Sure. Night, Yamcha," she murmured and without even waiting for his reply, dropped her hand to the side with the phone still clutched in her palm but not hung up.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, inhaling deeply and then breathing out slowly. She reopened her eyes and looked towards the night stand where her laptop was currently resting on. Without another thought, she left the phone on the bed and rolled over, reaching out for her computer and getting to work. Yamcha may be a good friend, but Prince… he could be the key to finding the most important man in her life, and every second of no research only meant that she was losing Vegeta even more.

Meanwhile in Yamcha's apartment, the moonlight from the crescent orb shone through the large picture window, casting a gradient of grey upon the man's face. He grumbled a goodbye through the phone and held it to his ear for a few moments. When he heard no reply or sound from Bulma, he scowled his hardest and ended the call furiously.

He breathed sharply through his nostrils; his muscles twitching agitatedly as blood boiled in his veins. The female on his bed remained still, wisely keeping quiet and observing the volatile man whom she had just met several hours ago.

Yamcha ran a hand through his tied-up long hair as he tried to contain his anger. He took in deep breaths, turned to glare once at the woman simply because she was there, and then turning his head away to ignore her. He proceeded to make another phone call and waited patiently for the recipient to pick up.

"Get me to East City on the next flight out," he demanded without a greeting. "I don't care! Just get back to me in an hour!" With that, he hung up and stood up, wearing only his boxers.

For years, he had been hoping that Bulma would forget; that she would finally look his way. Three years to be exact, he should have his chance by now. He had done all he could to be on her good side. He'd treated her well, supported her, and told her that life must go on. He'd even gone as far as to show her that he had been and would always be there for her. And if that wasn't enough to show her that he was madly, deeply in love with her, she would have to be blinded by the spell that her husband left behind.

Gripping the phone tightly in his hand, he paced the room like a frantic, desperate wolf. And with an angry cry, he propelled the phone to the nearest wall. He stood there, seething in white anger, as he eyed the shattered remains that were once his cell phone.

He would not let her go. Not after all the effort. He had invested too much time on this, on her. He had always been there from the beginning. He was there first. Vegeta _stole_ her from him! And now this man had to show up. This was unacceptable and by any possible means he was going to get back what was his.

He would not lose her to a man who she delusively thought was her deadbeat husband.

* * *

Prince hastily zipped through the cluster of trees towards the underground lab as the need to see the bald man with his own eyes beckoned urgently. Once his eyes spotted the hidden mountain crevice, he made a dash for it, disappearing through the thick brushes and into one of the lab's many secret passages.

That hole led him through a tunnel and straight into the South Wing, where the main cafeteria and training grounds resided. He fell through an opened shaft in the ceiling and landed on one knee in a crouching position, a fist planted on the floor to stabilise himself and a deadly glower etched on his face. Those who were in his vicinity wisely cleared the path the second he straightened up. Without even acknowledging his fellow Saiyans, Prince strode past them with his head held high, exuding a sense of superiority.

He walked a few metres down the hallway and then turned a sharp left into the training room, uncaring that he'd knocked aside two people who were exiting at the time. He stormed into the training grounds, stopping a short ways from the throng of exercise equipments and other facilities that were in the middle of the room. His eyes searched frantically through the pack of Saiyans, looking for the brute of a bald man, and when they finally spotted the culprit, Prince treaded towards him.

The bald man was bench-pressing diligently, ignoring all signs of life that went past him, including the short Saiyan who practically rooted himself to the metal flooring one-metre from his foot. The man was lying on his back, his legs firmly planted on the rubber mat beneath him for optimum grip and friction. He breathed out heavily through his nostrils as his thick, bulging forearms strained to push and lower the weights up and down, up and down, up and down…

Prince glared in eerie silence as the large man continued to pay him no mind, and that was how the duo stayed like for at least fifteen minutes. The blonde-haired Saiyan studied his target, observing his built and mentally gauging the man's strength and power level, at the same time, recalling the moments they've shared in his vision.

This particular Saiyan was among the special ones. He was big, strong, and powerful, but mainly, it was because he had no name. Throughout the entire underground community, this man was the only nameless hybrid. He was without a social circle; without an identity. He only had a number, and he was called No. 5. He was nothing but a label.

Rumour has it that when he was brought in, he was a total loss. It was said that the man was only left with half a stomach and suffered from severe head injuries. In other words, he was practically brain dead. They said he still was, with his brain partially removed and as a result, having no emotions whatsoever or recollection of any memory of ever being a human. In addition to his flaws, he was subjected to the implementation of an artificial brain. He was like a robot, nothing but a machine programmed to do his boss' bidding.

Prince's mind ran in circles, images of the younger bald man from his previous vision fleeting in and out of his head. After standing there analysing and staring at him like a pit-bull unwilling to release its victim, there was no doubt that he was looking at the same guy.

It was only a matter of seconds before the shorter man lost his patience. He walked up to the man and questioned him about his identity. And when the bald man displayed the incapability of expressing direct acknowledgement, Prince sported a short fuse and lunged forward with a fist. A brawl ensued in the middle of the training grounds and everyone who was there wisely dispersed.

Meanwhile, two lower class hybrids, also infamously dubbed as the 'Riotous Brothers', were seen trudging through the halls of the underground lab in casual strides. They would do anything and go anywhere together, and this time, they were headed for the training area in the Southern part of the GUSEL. While both were packed with muscles like most of the male hybrids, they held very similar facial features and thick black hair; though one was a head taller than the other. There was no doubt that these two were related.

The taller one was the older of the two, spanning at 6'5" tall and had really long and scruffy hair that reached the back of his calves. He was called Raditz, also labelled as No. 9.

The younger one had a height of 5'7". While his hair was short, it was an unruly mane that could break combs and put bad hair days to shame. He was called Kakarot. He was labelled as No. 10.

These two entities, albeit having categorised as Level 1 hybrids, were in a league of their own. They were called the Riotous Brothers because they were notoriously known to be cheeky and mischievous – always causing a riot within and outside the compound. But ultimately, they were deadly. The two brothers were known throughout the underground community as brutal fighters with a violent and ruthless tendency that could rival their boss' best and possible successor, Prince.

They _owed_ their lives to the doctor from the day they were _discovered_. At that time, they were nothing but a bag of broken bones and punctured organs before Dr. Gero _fixed_ them up. And unlike the abovementioned hybrid, these two did not work at laboratories, but rather were assigned to manage the newer hybrids. Their jobs were to coach and train them with specific workout regimes.

However, like Prince, they were also passionate in everything they did; be it fighting, learning new techniques, pulling pranks, or simply performing miscellaneous tasks and mundane routines. And as of now, they were seemingly engaged in a heated argument concerning one of their biggest passions – _food_.

"I'm telling you, that wasn't how chow mein is supposed to taste like!" Kakarot exclaimed as he walked alongside his brother, griping about the more-than-decent stir-fried noodles they had just five minutes ago in the GUSEL's main cafeteria.

"We go through this every single time you eat that damn dish. How else would chow mein taste like, huh? How many types of chow mein have you eaten in the last three years? One type!" Raditz pointed and argued, growling out his dispute.

"That was _not_ chow mein, that was crap."

"What the hell have we been eating, then?"

"Like I said, crap," Kakarot frowned and stubbornly turned his head away. His eyes narrowed as he strained to recall exactly where the hell he'd eaten better fried noodles.

A vague image then flashed in his mind, portraying a blurry apparition of a lady donning some kind of traditional-looking dress. He was certain she was standing before a waist-high counter with her back to him and before his view could bring him closer to her, the image vanished just as quickly as it came. He shook his head and huffed out sharply. He'd had that image for awhile now, and it had been replaying over and over in his head for as long as he could remember. Every time he thought she'd turn around to show him her face, she and the image would just vanish without a warning, leaving him frustrated. "I _think_ I've eaten better. I'm _sure_ I did."

Raditz rolled his eyes, unable to comprehend the enigma that was his younger brother. He grumbled under his breath, "You're hopeless."

The younger Saiyan gave his own eye-roll, merely sneering at his brother's insult for the lack of a better comeback. Just then, their keen hearing picked up unusual shuffling and movements that were coming from down the hall. It seemed like the commotion came from the public training room.

"What's that?" Raditz asked as they slowed down, two pairs of thick black brows furrowing.

"There's only one way to find out," Kakarot grumbled and the duo started to jog towards the source of it all.

Both brothers stopped by the door and eyed the on-going fuss. The nameless Saiyan was pinned under Prince, struggling against the smaller man who was currently spewing incoherent insults at his face. Kakarot and Raditz gave each other a look and shrugged before moving in to separate the men.

By now, No. 5 had already managed to push himself up, grabbing a hold of Prince as he attempted to shove the smaller man away. Raditz was the first to intervene, gently prying the larger Saiyan from Prince's firm grasp. Kakarot then proceeded to assist his brother and pulled the agitated Saiyan by the arm. That was his biggest mistake.

Frustrated, angry, and annoyed, Prince charged an energy sphere in his other hand and without warning, swung it to the back. His fist connected with Kakarot's jaw, sending the younger Saiyan several feet towards the end of the training room. He glared and sneered at the unfortunate newcomer, then spat on the floor.

Kakarot pushed himself off the ground the moment he landed and heatedly glared right back at the culprit. He scowled and shook with anger but otherwise didn't dare make a move. He was weaker than Prince and fighting back would not only warrant him a few broken ribs but the issue would also escalate, and their boss would no doubt punish him for causing another riot, what more with his _pet_.

"That's what you get for daring to lay your filthy hands on me, you low level moron," Prince growled, "Next time, I promise it _will_ hurt more."

He turned to walk away, sidestepping the two towering Saiyans. He stopped a short ways from them and glared squarely at No. 5, silently telling him that he was not done with him and that he'd deal with him at a later time. Then he stormed off and out of the training room towards the direction of his apartment, but not before flashing a last disgusted sneer at Kakarot and then Raditz.

Once the coast was clear and everything simmered down, No. 5 removed himself from the premise without a word, leaving the two brothers to try and make sense of what had just happened.

* * *

**Phew! There. Finally. Done!**

**So, the version I used for Yamcha is the one from DBGT, where he had his hair tied back into a tight ponytail.**

**I'm not too sure about Raditz's and Kakarot's height, but that's what I found on the internet. Plus, sorry if there are any mistakes spotted.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Do drop me a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is for a close friend of mine (you know who you are). May all your hopes and dreams remain unshattered. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and when life throws lemons at you, give them all to me and I'll churn out some awesome BV lemons for you, anytime.**

**And speaking of lemons: You must be 18 and above to read this chapter as this is a lust-fuelled episode. It contains lime and lemon.**

**Also, to jog your memory once again:**

**- xxxx before and after italicised passages indicates the start and end of a flashback.**

**- No. 5 is Nappa.**

**15,759 words this time. Do enjoy another long-ass read! XD**

* * *

**Last time on Legendary Evolution: Kakarot got pummelled to the ground for trying to diffuse a brawl between Prince and No. 5.**

"_That's what you get for daring to lay your filthy hands on me, you low level moron," Prince growled, "Next time, I promise it will hurt more."_

_He turned to walk away, sidestepping the two towering Saiyans. He stopped a short ways from them and glared squarely at No. 5, silently telling him that he was not done with him and that he'd deal with him at a later time. Then he stormed off and out of the training room towards the direction of his apartment, but not before flashing a last disgusted sneer at Kakarot and then Raditz._

_Once the coast was clear and everything simmered down, No. 5 removed himself from the premise without a word, leaving the two brothers to try and make sense of what had just happened._

* * *

_**Earlier that day…**_

"_You are an attractive… specimen, so what seems to be the issue here?" Dr. Gero said sweetly as he gave Andrea Etteen, Prince's 'wife' who was also known as No. 18, a lingering once-over._

"_There is no problem, doctor," 18 replied calmly. A slender finger pushed a stray blonde fringe behind her ear. She returned a stare and then turned her head away, "We just don't have the time."_

"_I beg to differ, my sweet 18. You and Prince are hardly trying," Dr. Gero emphasised on the last word as he accused, and then went on to grumble like a nagging grandfather, "You are what he called his 'wife' and you better act like one, or so help me…" he drifted off, flashing the female hybrid a piercing gaze this time. He frowned as he was rapidly losing precious patience and time when it came to his finest pair of crossbreeds._

_18 held her breath and shot him a steady gaze. She disliked the tone the old doctor was using as she never quite understood the reason for such conversation, much less the point of it. The doctor's interest in her intimate relationship with Prince was sometimes overbearing. At times, he'd slip in one or two snide remarks in between work-related discussions, giving her procreation ideas and not knowing that such notions would cause her to work overtime just so she didn't have to face her alienated spouse back at home._

_Oftentimes, she'd wonder why Gero hadn't already extracted their reproduction cells and just make a test tube child specimen instead. She figured he would if he was so eager. Plus, he always seemed edgy about the matter and yet patient enough to let things fall into place on their own. What was he trying to achieve?_

"_We've had this conversation countless of times, 18. I want you both to procreate!" he slammed a fist on the table, startling all that was on it._

_He eyed her for a moment and then flashed a toothy grin as if nothing just happened. He squinted at her and chuckled deeply, sending shivers down her spine even though her face was expressionless._

"_All I want is to see the natural birth of a Level 2 pure breed. You don't want to deny a kindly old man's wish, do you?" he leered, twirling a pen on the table as he spoke in a baritone voice, "I own you… and Prince… and your little. Saiyan. spawn."_

_Then he turned away with a disappointing frown, saying, "… If you have one."_

_18 moved her eyes away from him as she remained quiet and contemplative. So that was what he was after – a 100% pure breed Saiyan. Nothing but another lab rat for the old man to play with._

"_You remember 17… don't you?" he crooned, dropping the pen and moving to pinch and twirl the end of his moustache._

_She glanced up at the old man with a blank stare, wondering what brought on the topic of 17. No one ever talked about her brother, much less talked about him to her. Furthermore, she would never broach the subject without a good reason as some things were better left untold._

"_Of course you do," grinned Gero knowingly, the wrinkles on his face scrunching up and his yellow stained teeth showed._

"_What does my brother have to do with this?" she asked monotonously, though her voice was slightly shaken._

"_Nothing and everything. You are just like him," Gero said in a low voice, "Entitled. Defiant… What more can I say?"_

"_We are unalike," she argued and looked away, stubbornly crossing her arms above her abdomen. "Besides, he's dead," she continued apathetically, "He killed himself so there is nothing more to be said."_

_Gero walked up to her and stood closely, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at her. Like a father pacifying his child, he brushed her cheek tenderly before pushing a strayed blonde strand behind an ear. He stared deeply into her eyes. For some reason, it made her feel uncomfortable, as if there was a dark force pinning her to the spot. And no matter how hard she tried, she found it extremely difficult to turn away._

"_There's always more than meets the eye, 18," he droned, smirking behind his bushy moustache. He shook his head gently and said in a feigned apologetic tone, "He didn't kill himself."_

_Her eyes widened at his admission and she waited with bated breath for his explanation._

"_He was murdered," he finally revealed, his smirk slowly broadening into a full blown leer._

_She stood there unmoving as she frantically searched the doctor's dark eyes for truth. And when she found nothing in those cold orbs, she finally breathed out. "Murdered, how?" _

_Gero gave her lingering glance and then walked away, taking a seat on his lab high chair. "I can't explain how he was murdered because I wasn't there," he started, casually picking up his instruments to work on an ongoing experimentation. He continued to speak as if they were discussing the weather. "I assume he'd crossed the line with the wrong person."_

_He turned back to her and glared, arching a brow as he did so. "I guess there is some truth in learning from other people's mistake, won't you agree?"_

_Her stomach churned – the underlying threat was obvious and plain to see. She had witnessed Gero getting rid of Saiyans for lesser offences without a second thought before; some of whom she was rather familiar but were never close with. Of course, she knew he'd never get his hands down and dirty. There was always a crony standby and ready for him to be ordered around to do his deeds. She briefly wondered if her brother's death had gone through the same conspiracy._

_And now it could be her turn._

_She had evidently avoided procreating with Prince for the longest time but now it seemed like she had lucked out. Would her estranged husband still be keen on the idea, what with her brushing him off this morning, notwithstanding the other refusals in the past?_

_18 lowered her eyes to the floor, glanced back up at the doctor and back down again. Her mind raced for a way out but nothing useful came up. She blanched and a thin sheen of cold sweat licked her skin. All she wanted at that moment was to go home. For once, she needed to find Prince. If he refused her now, she was as good as dead._

* * *

_**In Prince's apartment, that very same night…**_

18 laid flat on the bed, clad only in her silk robe. Her breathing was slow and steady. The last two hours were spent doing nothing but staring blankly at the ceiling. Gero's subtle threat rang loudly in her head, and whenever she recalled his exact words regarding her brother, she cringed.

In her desperate state of mind, she weighed the possibility of Prince turning down her advances. But seeing that he tried kissing her this morning, perhaps there was a slight chance that he'd still be keen on trying again. The only problem was to figure out a way to convince the man, whom she'd diligently pushed away, to go through with this.

* * *

After that dispute with No. 5 and Kakarot, Prince practically stormed into his apartment in anger. The moment he entered the bedroom he shared with 18, that same anger dissipated, only to be replaced with aggravation when he sensed she was in there.

_What rotten luck!_

He breathed through his nostrils, pressing his lips into a thin line. He stepped into the room and gently closed the door despite knowing that she wasn't asleep. Without a thought and much less a glance her way, he marched straight into the showers.

18 pushed herself up and watched as the bathroom door closed behind the man. She battled between staying in bed till he emerged and going in after him. But when the water began to run, she decided to join him.

Inside the shower stall, powerful streams of hot water pattered against Prince's naked body. He stood nearly motionless under the pressure, allowing his mind to be filled with thoughts of Bulma and a little of the bald-headed man.

This day had been the strangest one yet, not counting the day he emerged from the blast in the lab three years ago. Identifying the woman in his dreams to be Bulma was one thing; he was glad that he could finally put a face to his mysterious dream girl. But the man was another thing. At this, he frowned as he struggled to come up with a plausible explanation. Who exactly was No. 5 to him? He was sure the man had a name and not some label. The vision portrayed as much. He sighed heavily and shook his head, stopping himself from delving any deeper.

And just as he thought things couldn't get worse, the shower door slid open and snapped him out of his reverie.

Prince turned his head to the side and eyed the intruder with the corner of his eye. It was 18, standing outside the stall and staring at him with an undecipherable look. A winged brow arched as he silently questioned the motives of his estranged spouse for she had absolutely no reason to actually want to be in here with him. Unless…

They stared at one another for a long time until 18 decided to disrobe. Slowly, she shrugged the satin garment off her shoulders. It slipped down her body gracefully and pooled on the floor around her feet. He held his breath and kept a steady gaze on her, slightly surprised by her sudden bold display. He eyed her for a few seconds longer before allowing his onyx eyes to sweep slowly down her curvy length. In the last three years, there were only a handful of times when he'd get to see her completely undressed and even then, they were usually accidental glimpses. Clearly, this time was different.

Like any other man, he drank in every inch of her shapely nude and inwardly approved. But unlike any other man, he pictured her to be another woman; particularly one with blue hair and alabaster skin.

"Mind if I come in?" her smooth steely voice waved through the sounds of the water.

A slender leg stepped into the spacious stall before the rest of her joined him under the spraying water. Her lips parted when the heat and steam wafted across her face. In all their years together, she had never once initiated intimacy, much less presented herself this way. She briefly wondered if he would see through her intention; and if so, what kind of consequences would she face?

Their eyes met and Prince lifted his hand, slowly reaching out for the wall behind her. 18 swallowed as he came closer. She stared steadily at him, waiting to see what he would do next. Seconds felt like minutes and the slower he was, the more awkward it became. As a result, she began to realise the true extent of the discomfort that was building within her, especially when he had her cornered and trapped in between his muscular arm and the wall.

"Not at all," he said in a low voice, looking down at her face as he flashed his trademark smirk.

He then pulled the towel down from the hook that was behind her. Without another glance, he turned to walk away, wrapping and securing the towel around his waist. Almost immediately, he stepped out of the stall as if he couldn't wait to get away from her.

"It's all yours," he threw over his shoulder and then proceeded to drip-dry to bed.

She glared into the back of his head as he walked away; appalled by the way he brushed her off. She couldn't help but fume under the steaming running water. '_How dare he turn me down now?_' she thought desperately. At this point, the non-existent chemistry between them and her death didn't matter.

As unfeeling as she thought she was or should be, she was a _woman_; never mind a beautiful one; but a _woman_ nonetheless. She had just served herself naked on the platter to him. Wasn't that what he was aiming for this morning when he kissed her? The nerve of that arrogant man! This was obviously one of the main reasons why she couldn't stand him all that much.

She pressed her back against the wet tiles and took in deep, steady breaths. It was important that she calmed herself down before deliberating plan B. At this moment, her pride must not rein her judgements. Her life was at stake here, the more reason why she couldn't possibly fail in luring and enticing the man she shared a bed with.

Meanwhile in the room, Prince put on a pair of shorts and lied on his side of the bed with his back facing the empty spot. Lately, it seemed like he had been going to sleep angry and frustrated – both mentally and sexually – and tonight was no different. He concluded that today had been the worst, most terrible day of his life.

Due to the infiltrating flashes of visions unknown, he had possibly developed the worst headache ever. Said visions had to take it up a notch and placed him in situations that he had no recollection of. And taking it further, they even associated him with people he'd only ever seen in his dreams or never before. To top it off, whatever his estranged spouse did moments ago definitely took the cake. She had officially made this a legendary bad day.

He couldn't care less if 18 changed her mind about finally wanting to get intimate. If she had been responsive to him this morning _or_ _anytime_ in the last three years, things would have definitely panned out differently. In fact, her actions earlier would have been appreciated and very pleasantly reciprocated. But clearly that wasn't the case. And besides, the recent turn of events may have just escalated his life into two separate epic proportions.

No. 5, was one of the two, whom he angrily pushed aside and into the back of his mind. There would be time to think about him later. There were more dire priorities to take care of.

Namely, Bulma Briefs.

Now, he would have to tap into his subconscious and see what sleep had to offer him. Notwithstanding the fact that he was mentally drained, it was important that he dreamed again tonight. He had hoped he'd get to dream about his fantasy female. He just had to see if the blue-haired dame he'd met moments ago would match the one from his subconscious.

And if Bulma's face did match the woman from his dream, what then?

He breathed in deeply as he focused on trying to fall asleep. He relaxed and let himself go. Slowly, his mind began to drift and transcend into a more tranquil plane, detaching him from reality. His breathing became deep and steady, and he knew that he was entering the realm of dreams. His mind floated for a moment before he felt a warm hand brush over his shoulder from behind. Almost immediately, a familiar scent intruded his sense of smell. Dainty fingers then feathered lightly down his chest and he felt the light scraping of nails curled against his skin.

"Prince," a quiet feminine voice called to him and his brows instantly stitched together. _She_ never called him by that name. It had always been Vegeta. Never Prince.

The voice called him for the second time and his eyes flew open. His breath hitched in his throat and he saw not the serene setting of his subliminal mind but rather the devastating environs of his bedroom. He swallowed and blinked a few times. Then he gave the slim hand that was on his chest a suspicious and calculating glare.

"Are you awake?" 18 asked, hoping to rouse more than just his conscious.

Remaining perfectly quiet and still, he watched her from the corner of his eyes. 18 mistook his silence as consent and boldly traced her hand lower to his stomach, uncharacteristically resting her chin on his muscular arm as she did so. He touched her hand and slid upwards, feeling up the contours of her bony knuckles and then the smooth plain of the back of her palm. Frowning, he encircled her tiny wrist and shifted around to face her.

Without warning, he pushed her back onto the bed and none too gently pinned the same hand above her head. 18 let out a small gasp at the force he was using on her, staring wide eyed at the man who practically shoved his face up to hers.

"Who put you up to this?" he questioned her gruffly, his voice low and menacing.

He noticed that she was still undressed but otherwise didn't once think of letting his eyes roam past her neck. He kept his eyes strictly on her face, reading her expressions and dilating pupils as if she was an open book. Her stubborn silence filled the air and Prince snarled.

"Answer me!" he growled, feeling his anger returned. And when his temper flared, he'd do things unintentionally like bestowing her wrist a death grip.

18's temper flared as well, which inadvertently pissed him off even further. So allowing his rage to get the best of him, he warned through gritted teeth, "I don't want to hurt you, Andrea."

"No one put me up to this!" she stressed back, growling her discontent.

Her defence mechanism quickly kicked in, and without thinking, she smacked him squarely in the chest with a wave of energy charged from her other hand, furiously shoving Prince off of her and startling him for the first time ever. She pushed herself up and her eyes widened for a second. When she finally came to her senses and realised what she had done, she cringed. But after recalling the reason why she had attacked him in the first place, she went back to glaring and frowning.

18's surprise attack managed to push Prince back to the foot of the bed. Appalled, he sent her an incredulous stare before giving a piercing glare and scowl of his own. Never once had she laid her hands on him in such a way. And that being said, he too, had never once laid his hands on her like that. Such revelation only made him realise that sharing home and bed with a person did not necessarily result in a happy relationship. If anything, his relationship with 18 was beyond repair at this point of time.

"It was _him_, wasn't it?" he drawled out while keeping a steady gaze on her face. "_He_ is the one who put you up to this!"

She dragged the blanket to her chest as a tinge of regret waved over her for giving the familiar stranger an eyeful of her body. The fact that he seemed hardly affected by the display didn't even matter to her now. "No," she asserted stubbornly, using a tone that meant her answer was irrefutable.

"Alright," he conceded tiredly, not really wanting to keep this argument up any longer but he still needed answers first. "So why now? Why not _any_ time in the last three years?" he growled impatiently, pressing for an answer in an accusative manner.

She turned her head away, feeling oppressed by Prince's unjust allegation. It wasn't her fault that she didn't reciprocate any of his advances. The attraction just wasn't there and she'd say the same for him if she had known any better. Furthermore, she had always suspected that his so called advances were never about her, but rather about him satisfying some unknown fantasy of his. She knew this because sometimes he'd speak in his sleep and call out a name she'd never heard before. At first she had been curious about it and subtly asked if he remembered ever talking in his sleep. When he denied, she simply dropped the matter, and frankly, she didn't quite care. That being said, she was just as trapped as he was in an unrequited relationship.

"It was different then; it's different now," she murmured monotonously, pushing her fallen fringes behind an ear. She'd anticipated that it would end this like this – unfavourable to her. It was best to quit before things became much worse between them. She wouldn't dare assume that he would help her even if she'd told him the truth. Who was she kidding, anyway?

Prince scoffed and shook his head, not buying a single word she said. "Then or now, there is no and never will be a difference," he grumbled, getting off the bed before walking around to his side.

As he did so, the blue-haired woman appeared in his head, her smiling face seemingly prompting him to say more. It didn't pain him to admit that Bulma or the lady in his dreams made him feel more alive than anyone he'd ever known. Meeting Bulma Briefs had vastly changed his perspective about everything he thought he knew.

In fact, she was the first thing to ever make any sense in the last three years of his deluded life. It was as if he was supposed to be by her side, wherever she went; wherever she was. And in this underground lab or apartment with 18 would be the first place where he shouldn't be.

Deep down, he knew it was time to put a stop to this madness. He had to engage Bulma. He had to find out more and damn it to hell, he had to see her again. But before that, he would have to draw the line with 18, if only to keep her from further making a fool out of herself.

"I don't care what made you decide to change your mind but this ends here and now," he said sternly, sending her a fixed stare. "Besides, it's too late for anything more," he finished.

18 stared back stoically before giving him a solemn nod. Satisfied, he snatched his pillow and without another glance at her, strode out of the room with every intention to sleep and dream on the living room couch.

xxxx

"_Sooo…" Nappa drawled, breathing heavily as he allowed the notion of a desperate love struck boy seeking for his help sink in. "… Belinda didn't die," he finished, leaning back into the armrest as he lazily eyed Vegeta from his side of the couch._

"_Nope. She did. She died. She's dead," Vegeta firmly clarified as he returned the large man a piercing stare._

"_From asphyxia-"_

_Vegeta cut him off, "From an overdose of-"_

"_-of unfaithfulness, got it." Nappa quickly chimed back in, correcting and completing his sentence. Then he shook his head, clicked his tongue, and murmured to himself, "What a disease."_

_The smaller man glared with a frown but otherwise said nothing more. He looked away, thinking about how bad of an idea this was. He huffed out an exasperated breath and pressed his lips into a thin line. He should have known better than to ask a man who hadn't dated in years for pointers._

"_So let me get this straight," Nappa said as he sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and moving his hands for emphasis. "You want to know if billionaire bombshell has Berry's 'disease', since you know, she is outta your league and all but that's beside the point-"_

"_Oh, for fuck's sake!" Vegeta cried and jumped to his feet. "Forget I ever said anything, I'm going to bed!"_

_Vegeta stormed towards the direction of his room and instead of going around Nappa, he crossed paths with him. But the large man wasn't having about to let him leave so he stood up and towered over his smaller counterpart. Vegeta halted in his tracks and glared up, his wary eyes observing Nappa's next move._

"_Sit down, squirt," Nappa put a hand on his shoulder and effortlessly pushed him back and sat him down. Vegeta scowled and attempted to get up again but a simple poke on his chest kept him where he was._

_Nappa stood looming over Vegeta, who was angrily glaring back. The big man wagged his pointer as if he was reprimanding a child, saying, "You may pack in some good punches and agility but I have size on my side." Then to prove a point, he rolled his shoulders, flexed his neck, and cracked his knuckles._

'_Who is he trying to kid anyway?' he thought._

_Vegeta folded his arms and kept his glower, staring up at his friend expectantly while his patience was happily driving saints to tears. Nappa saw this and grinned. He folded his arms as well and smirked smugly at the younger man, pressing, "Do you want the girl or not?"_

_That lone question could mean nothing and everything, and for someone like Vegeta, gambling with life was what he did best. His eyes narrowed into determined slits. He had decided._

* * *

_Bulma Briefs couldn't believe it when Vegeta called her out for the second time._

_After that coffee night, she had driven home with a huge smile on her face. When she stepped into the showers, the smile had broadened. And when her head finally hit the pillow, the smile was still there. Needless to say, she was deadly attracted to the soldier._

_Days later, he called her again – this time to ask her out on a real date! Dinner and dancing, what more could a girl want on a first real date?_

_A black v-neck halter dress was her choice. The apex of the neckline went past the valley of her breasts and the hem flowed gracefully at knee length. Such a dress required no bra and she must admit, it made her feel a little sexier; a little more womanly. The rest of the fabric hugged her curves perfectly, further accentuating her feminine contours with the help of a pair of three-inch crystal-studded black stilettos. She had half of her hair pinned up into a loose bun and the rest was fixed to the side, creating a cascading waterfall that fell from her shoulder. She had little to no make-up on save for a sliver of eyeliner and sweet-pink lipstick. She didn't want to appear too overbearing; she didn't want to look too much of a good girl either._

_She sat patiently on the living room couch, nervously fidgeting her fingers. Her old butler, who was standing by the door, couldn't help but to give her an amused grin. She shot him back a look and reminded him to lay off the knob until she was out of the house. Just then, the bell chimed and she jumped to her feet, making a beeline dash for the lobby's double doors._

_Vegeta raised an inquisitive brow when the door opened to reveal the woman. He was certain rich people with large mansions had help to do all that menial stuff. She greeted him with a brilliant smile and his curiosity, along with all present thoughts, vanished in an instant. He gave her an appreciative once-over and allowed his eyes to linger, specifically on her face. Stupefied by the creature before him, he swallowed dryly as his breath wedged in his airway. He cleared his throat and blinked. She was so beautiful._

"_You look hideous," he said, a playful smirk etched on his face._

_She narrowed her eyes and gauged the light-heartedness in his voice. Then she flashed her own playful smirk and walked up to him. She lifted a finger and poked his chest, at the same time judging his sense of fashion. He wore a dark brown casual jacket over a black polo tee, complemented by a pair of navy blue jeans and rusty brown shoes. She gave him a once-over, licking an incisor seductively as she did. Almost immediately, she threw a witty comeback of her own in a hushed whisper, "Only to complement you, Captain."_

_Vegeta, who couldn't take his eyes of her, was stunned into a lack of speech and nodded absentmindedly. He applauded in a murmur, "Well played."_

_Bulma smirked smugly and spoke up in a perky manner, "Now that the formalities are out of the way, shall we?"_

_Vegeta moved to the side and swept his hand towards the direction of his armoured SUV. He led her down the staircase by the hand and said, "We shall."_

_["__**Number one**__; use your SUV. Chicks dig that piece of metal, especially one that's on steroids. Remember, it's that piece of metal. Not you."]_

_Nappa's voice rang in his ears, his set of guidelines repeating religiously in his head. He didn't like what the man had presented him with and honestly thought that most of them were nothing but a bunch bullshit._

"_This. is. so. awesome!" Bulma squealed excitedly, feeling up the fine matte finishing of his testosterone-filled vessel before moving to the front to inspect its impeccable design._

'_Alright, maybe not all is bullshit,' he thought to himself as he watched her study his car. He could tell that her curious scientist mind had kicked in and couldn't help but be amused. However, time was a-wasting, so he casually propped himself up against the side of the car's large hood and reminded her without any hesitation, "Reservation's in 30 minutes."_

_She straightened up from hunching over the front grill. Her smile was ever apparent and it made him wonder if she was born or frozen like that. Either ways, her smile was contagious and he liked it. She strode towards and past him, opening the door herself for a good feel before jumping inside. He shut the door behind her and rounded the car to get on his own side._

"_Where to?" she asked while fastening her seat belt. Vegeta glanced once in his rear-view mirror and then peeled out of her large driveway. They reached the main gate and he took a right and into the streets, heading up north before finally answering her, "The capital."_

_They reached their destination in no time and Vegeta pulled over at the front of the club's entrance. Due to the club's strict policy of 'No Vehicle Decapsulation' within a mile of the premise, most party-goers who wished for a convenient get-off would have to succumb to the club's valet service. He didn't want to walk that far and besides, he was sure Bulma wouldn't want to trek that single mile in three-inch heels. They alighted from the car and he tossed his keys to the attendant before escorting her towards the main door._

_He went up to the bouncer and stood in a way that would keep his hands out of Bulma's sight. He eyed the rotund man before quietly slipping 100 Zeni into his hand. Without a single word of exchange, Vegeta and an oblivious Bulma were then ushered into the city's most affluent four-level nightclub._

_["__**Number two**__; once in the club, see if she stays close to you. We all know that millionaire dames go places – but billionaire bombshells? We don't know for sure and trust me, we don't want to know. So if you really want to gauge her true lifestyle, see if she's detached during the club scene. If yes, then she's the type who's been around the block and her clique is most likely nearby, too. If she sticks to you like glue, then it can only mean two things; she's the type who'd rather stay at home and it's your chance to give her a night she'll never forget!"]_

_Vegeta's left eye twitched and then both narrowed into slits. For some reason, Nappa's last sentence of the second guideline disturbed him greatly. He wasn't sure if the man had meant it in a sexual way, or because he wanted it to mean that way. After entering the building, they were led to the third level and into a dining section that donned an opulent setting – black shimmering walls and tiles, generous blood red drapes that hung from the ceiling and pooled on the floor, and candle-lit table tops amidst the dimmed ambience._

_Bulma was highly impressed. He sighed in relief._

_They sat across from one another, eating and engaging in intriguing conversations just like the ones they had during their coffee date. Bulma was all smiles and Vegeta couldn't seem to take his eyes or ears off her. Throughout the dinner, he observed the way her lips moved as she spoke and the little gestures she'd make with her hands as she emphasised on something or someone in particular. Time flew and before they knew it, dinner was over and the night officially began. The muffled music from the dance floor on the first level beckoned their party instincts, urging them both to get their meal over with and join the pulsating scene._

_When they were done with their food, Bulma excused herself to the ladies' restroom. Vegeta watched her sashayed away and allowed his eyes to stay longer on her slender, curvy legs. She stopped at the end of the room, looking around aimlessly. Once she spotted her destination and was out of sight, Vegeta immediately flagged down a waitress._

_Dressed provocatively with a low neckline and mid-thigh red dress, the waitress bent down and placed her head close to his mouth. He murmured into her ear, giving her specific instructions about something before slipping in a 100 Zeni into her dress pocket. She smiled and eyed him seductively, nodding and giving him a wink before slithering away to carry on with what she had been bribed to do._

_Bulma returned not long after and they left to go downstairs. Once they were in the elevator, a blend of fresh citrus and floral notes wafted to his face. He closed his eyes as he took in the scent, inhaling and exhaling like as if he was drugged. She smelled heavenly; intoxicating even. He never wanted so badly to pull her into his arms and suckle on her slender neck, down to her collarbone, and then everywhere else._

_The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal flashing neon lights and pulsating music that reverberated off the walls. Just as they exited the lift, the crowd burst into cheers and whistles, and the music was viciously pumped up, bumping everyone up into a dance pandemic. Celebratory blasts were heard and party confetti was cannoned from the ceilings, falling atop everyone's heads. Bulma and Vegeta stared up at the shimmering display and then at each other. It seemed like the couple had conveniently joined the nightclub's first year anniversary celebration._

_They walked on and made their way through the party crowd with Vegeta in the front. He took her hand and locked his fingers between hers, uncomfortably rubbing shoulders with people as he led her across the room and towards the bar counter._

_["__**Number three**__; walk away, but not too far away. Just make sure that you are out of her line of sight where you can comfortably watch and observe her. You want to see how she responds and reacts to total strangers who decide to chat her up when you're not there."]_

_Vegeta ordered a bottle of beer while Bulma got herself a glass of nice, refreshing iced long island tea. While they stood waiting, bobbing their heads to the beat and bass, and flashing each other smiles, Vegeta's phone conveniently vibrated in his pants. He whipped out his device and stared at the caller's name long enough for Bulma to get a glimpse of it. They shared a look before Vegeta politely excused himself, saying that he needed to take this call. He also told her to wait for his return before walking away._

_Stealthily, he slinked away to the other side of the bar and stood just a little out of her sight, but far enough to still watch her without being seen._

"_Are you or are you not out of the target's line of sight?" the voice said through the phone._

_Vegeta frowned. He wasn't exactly fond of the way Nappa was labelling Bulma. This wasn't an undercover slash ambush drill. And she most certainly wasn't a 'target'._

"_Yea, I'm watching her."_

"_Good. What is she doing?"_

_Vegeta craned his head a little, observing the tiny details of Bulma's every movement. She seemed to be occupied at the moment, having activated her curious mind as she kept herself engrossed in the way the bartenders were making drink after drink._

"_I dunno. Possibly analysing the amount of chemical compounds in every drink the bartender is making."_

"_Ahh. So now we wait."_

_Vegeta's brows furrowed and his face crinkled up in frustration. He pressed his lips into a thin line and breathed heavily through his nostrils. He shook his head in agitation and said, "I don't think she should be left alone."_

"_No, no. Just wait and see. Some smartass will come."_

_Bulma never liked wasting time, so whenever she was forced to wait, she would use her time wisely by analysing and theorising everything in sight. She watched the bartender did his thing, observing the way he expertly and fluidly created those concoctions. She was a wine-drinker and the occasional glass of whiskey at most, but only at home. She never drank at the local pubs, much less nightclubs. It just wasn't her scene. So whenever she got the chance to be at a place like this, her eyes and mind would take in as much as they could. Then she'd go home and replay the experience in her head till it all made sense to her._

_She stood there patiently as she waited for her beverage and the return of her missing date. A mere minute later a guy walked up to the bar and slipped himself in between her and another person. The guy ordered something from the bartender, and while waiting for his drink, decided to make small talk with the blue-haired woman._

"_I've never seen you before," the blonde-haired pretty boy greeted with a dashing playboy smile. At first Bulma ignored him, not really certain if he was talking to her. Even if he was, she wasn't in the least bit interested._

_But he was determined, turning to lean on his back against the counter as he tried again, "Come around here often?"_

_Bulma stared at him suspiciously and deliberated giving a response. She didn't want to come off as rude so she simply replied him in the most diplomatic way, "It's my first time here, thanks for asking."_

_The guy kept his eyes on her, looking as if he was contemplating something. He blinked and then voiced out, "You know, my buddies and I are just seated over there. Why don't you join us?"_

_At this, the woman gave a small smile but otherwise was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable on the inside. She hoped Vegeta would return sooner. What if the man dragged her to his table? What if he kidnapped her?!_

"_I'd rather not. Thanks again," she declined his offer and then looked away. But the guy was persistent and continued to persuade her._

"_Don't worry. We're friendly people, you'll have fun, I promise," he assured with a smile, and then a shimmer in her hair caught his eye. He reached out for it, saying, "Oh, wait. There's something in your hair. Let me get that."_

_Vegeta saw the scene unfurl before his very eyes and suffice to say, he wasn't in the least bit happy. He told Nappa what was happening at the moment and was told to wait and see how it'd all pan out. His eyes narrowed dangerously when the guy touched her hair once, and then twice, seemingly picking out strayed confetti pieces that were stuck in her strands. He also noticed that Bulma was beginning to show signs of panic and discomfort by the man's intrusive proximity. By the third touch Vegeta's heart raced and his blood boiled. Nobody had the right to move in on his woman and think they could get away with it. He scowled hard at the disturbing display and then growled through the phone, "Nappa, I'm gonna have to call you back."_

"_What are you gonna do?"_

"_I'm about to throw him a random gift, like a grenade."_

_With that said, he hung up and stormed angrily back to Bulma's side._

_The guy was practically immersing his fingers in the softness of her cerulean tresses. He had never seen a creature this hot before. She was so sexy that he wanted to take her home and bed her without even needing to know her name. But if he wasn't mistaken, this blue-haired fox was none other than the famous Briefs girl. Such thrill to add to his pursuit of pleasurable activities, he thought. He was smiling perversely at the explicit fantasy, oblivious to Bulma's apparent discomfiture. She was about to swat his hands away when suddenly, Vegeta wedged himself in between them, removing her from the man's sight._

"_Friend of yours?" he asked Bulma, a little more forceful than his usual languid speech._

_Bulma let out a sigh of relief. She couldn't be any happier seeing Vegeta come to her rescue. "No. We just met."_

_The guy snapped out of his sexual reverie at the newcomer's arrival. Pretending as if nothing had happened, he extended a hand in greeting, "Hey, man. Name's Mike."_

_Vegeta eyeballed Mike, imprinting his vile face and voice into his mind in case the need to hunt him down and murder him in cold blood arose. He glared at his hand and then back up at his face. He took it and grasped it firmly as he curtly introduced himself with an underlying tone, "Getta."_

"_Getta? That's a weird name," Mike commented, shaking his hand._

_Vegeta smirked, returning a firmer shake of his own. He countered, "On the contrary, it has a really profound meaning behind it. Wanna know what that is…" he paused and then sneered, spewing his name with disgust, "Mike?"_

_At this point, Vegeta's grip tightened and the man visibly winced. Bulma, who was standing on the side and taking everything in, cringed a little but decided to wait and see what her date would do next._

"_Sure, man. What is it?" Mike strained, his tough guy act waning as his assailant increased the pressure on his hand._

_Vegeta jerked the guy towards him, positioning his mouth next to his head. He growled into his ear, his grip tightening even more, "It means getta hell outta here before I crush more than just your pinkie."_

_"Alright. Ok. Let go!" Mike groaned, caving in to the pain. Vegeta released his grasp and the guy yanked his hand away._

_The stranger looked between the couple, taking in his attacker's piercing glare and the blue-haired woman's indifferent expression. Her face practically screamed 'you deserve it'. He shook his head and snorted in disbelief. He grabbed his beer and took his leave right after but not before throwing over his shoulder, "Not worth it."_

_Vegeta turned towards Bulma and saw that she was stifling a smile._

"_Getta, huh?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with clear amusement._

_He raised a brow and shrugged, saying, "At least I was nice enough to introduce myself… first."_

_Bulma was about to tease some more when her date simply grabbed their drinks and moved to the far end of the room, away from the throng of annoying party people. He took the lead again, passing the glass of long island tea to her before taking her hand in his. They swerved in and out between people while Vegeta searched the premise for the table that supposedly had his name on it. When he finally found it, he smirked._

_The singular bar table was situated in the corner. It was shrouded by just the right blend of light and darkness. Most importantly, it was secluded and placed away from prying eyes. Vegeta put his beer bottle down before pulling out the highchair for Bulma, one that was nearest to the wall. He decided to stand beside her instead of sitting down. Judging from the way things were panning out, he figured he could get closer to her by the end of the date. Of course, he meant getting to know her personality better, or at least that was what he told himself._

_Nevertheless, it was totally worth the 100 Zeni waitress tip._

_Unfortunately for him, Bulma didn't gain her reputation by being dim. She saw through his intentions and decided that if things were to work out between them, the cards should always be laid open._

"_You don't even like this place," she alleged in a baritone voice. Her limpid blue eyes pierced into his charcoal orbs, while her lips gently cinched upon her straw, biting and sucking on its tip._

"_It's a nice place," he answered, neither professing nor denying._

_She took a tiny sip and rested an arm on the table top. Then in all seriousness, she queried, "Why did you really bring me here?"_

_He remained silent, his eyes set on capturing every detailed dilating of her pupils as if there was a story behind them. Those baby blues darted back and forth – searching, seeking, but finding nothing. He shrugged, not really knowing what more he could say for he only wanted nothing more than to lose and immerse himself in her. That being said, neither of them realised how dangerously close he had gotten; not even when their noses were a hairsbreadth away._

"_What do you wish to find?" she asked softly, unable to look away._

"… _You," he breathed out and she smiled. Then with a knowing smirk, he teased, "You're curious about me… aren't you?"_

_She bloomed and intelligence shone through her eyes as she stared at her date, completely amazed that he was spot on._

_A dark winged brow arched and she pulled him closer by his jacket collar. He gladly slinked towards her, resting an arm next to hers on the table. Gently, he placed his other hand on her waist, slowly sliding towards the arch of her back. His fingers moved softly against the fabric of her dress, allowing the material to rub against her bare skin. She swallowed and he took delight in the way the blue of her eyes deepened. There was no need to rush tonight. He would bide his time. Something about her melting into his arms was telling him that he should take it slow and smell the flowers._

"_Maybe I am," she replied sweetly, staring deeply into his eyes. She smirked, "And maybe, I've pulled a background check on you this evening and already know all about you."_

"_What made you think I haven't done the same on you?" he defended with a smirk of his own._

"_Prove it," she challenged. "What do you know about me? Tell me something that the tabloids haven't already reported."_

_His smirk broadened into a crooked grin as he eagerly accepted her childish challenge. Whether she looked up his profile or not, it hadn't changed the fact that he had done his own background investigation on her prior to their date. He wasn't ashamed in letting her know anyway. The fact that she wasn't in the least bit fazed by it clearly showed that she didn't mind at all._

"_Why don't we make things a little bit more challenging?" said Bulma in a baritone voice. At this, a smirk and an arched brow formed on Vegeta's face._

"_I accept challenges. I'm pretty sure I can take on anything you dish out."_

"_Oh-ho, really now?" Bulma laughed lightly, the gears in her head already working to 'dish' it out._

"_What's at stake?" asked Vegeta._

"_Absolutely nothing because it's all about getting your facts right. A fun way to get to know me, don't you think?"_

"_Getting my facts right, huh?"_

"_Yeap!" she beamed and then taunted, "It's not too late to back out."_

_Getting only a smug grin from him, she decided to take the challenge up a notch. "Fine. Let's see how you get this right."_

"_Bring it on, woman."_

_She glared at him for a second and then presented the bait._

"_One of the following three statements is the truth and you'll have to guess which one it is. A) I was born during daylight in late summer; B) I obtained a double PhD at the age of 16; and C) I have a birthmark on my left butt cheek."_

_Vegeta appeared to be in deep thought after she finished. Bulma thought she had outdone herself, presenting him with two true statements and one false. She grinned as she watched him decide which answer was accurate, knowing that he would never get it right. But he surprised her with another answer instead._

"_A and B are false, and C is highly uninformative."_

_Astounded, Bulma huffed out. She prepared to refute, not knowing that by doing so only made her given options appear to be even less credible. She was certain that A and B were as sure as her middle name! C, however… was a different story._

"_Mind explaining?"_

"_It's simple, really. A) You were born on Aug 28 in the year 1977 – and if my memory serves me correctly, a total solar eclipse occurred in North East City, in which at a concurrent hour only a partial ecliptic phenomenon could be seen in West City. And on that day, the world welcomed you at precisely 16:38 hours – a dark, late afternoon in the peak of summer; B) You did not obtain a double PhD at the age of 16, but rather, one PhD two months prior to your 16th birthday and the other, five months after that," he debated, the seriousness in his voice fading. The gleam in his eyes then shone playfully and he leaned in with a crooked grin, "And as for C)… what can I say? There is only one way to find out."_

_Bulma blinked. For the first time on an outing with a man, she was stunned into speechlessness and disbelief. She was surprisingly overwhelmed by his accurate explanation and it was one thing to have smarts, but it was a whole other story to actually possess that level of I.Q. and analytic brainpower. And what more, the guy really did his homework. A lopsided grin formed on her lips at that thought – intelligence has always been an absolute turn-on for her._

"_Well," she breathed out, still recovering from her state of mild shock, "That was… smooth and enlightening. At least now I know a few things about you."_

"_Do you, now?" he taunted, taking a swig off his beer bottle, his gaze fixated on her._

"_I'm fairly sure I do."_

"_Surely, you don't."_

"_And surely, you don't know that."_

"_You think you've had me all figured out?" he asked light-heartedly, albeit it was more of a statement than a question._

_She smiled, biting her bottom lip before replying, "I do love solving mysteries and puzzles."_

_His brow raise and eyes narrowed playfully, "So I'm just another piece."_

"_No, but you are one of the bigger pieces," refuted Bulma. She stared longingly at his lips and added, "and I'm determined to fit you into the puzzle…" then met his eyes seductively, "… that is me."_

_He smirked as he put his bottle away. He parked his hand beside her elbow and feathered lightly over her bony tip in little circles with a finger. That little gesture sent tingles down her spine and much to her surprise, she enjoyed it._

"_Figuratively… or literally speaking?"_

_She smiled as her twinkling blue eyes spoke for themselves. She played with her drink, fishing out an ice cube and clasping it in her palm before giving him back her undivided attention._

"_If I let you decide, which will you choose?"_

"_I'll have you know, I'm greedy by nature," he flashed a full-blown grin and she smiled slyly._

"_Perfect," she purred, slipping the ice cube through her lips. She closed her mouth and swirled her tongue around the frozen liquid, pushing the cube against her inner cheeks and teasing the man further._

_Vegeta stared at her mouth, suddenly finding it really difficult to breathe. He swallowed as he observed the way she moved the ice around the insides of her cheek, wishing that it was his tongue and something else instead. His pants tightened from that mental image and his fingers itched to touch her in all the right places. He watched her attentively, his penetrating gaze appreciating the movements of her lips before she clamped the cube in between her teeth. He glanced back up and their eyes met. Then he reached up and slid his thumb along her collarbone, the curve of her neck, and finally her chin. He paused at her bottom lip and gently tugged it down, revealing her tiny set of teeth before stroking the side of the wet ice slowly; sensually._

_Carefully, he pinched the ice between his pointer and thumb. He slid the cube down following the path from which his finger hailed and went even lower._

_The melting cube caused ice-cold droplets to trail down her skin, forming a wet stream in between the valley of her breasts. He led the ice down that path and slid it beneath the dress neckline, pushing the fabric slightly aside to rub the cube over a pert nipple. He was so swift that Bulma hadn't even seen him move until she gasped at the chill._

_She held his hand and pulled it up between their faces. She plucked the ice from his fingers and his hand slipped down to encircle her wrist. Placing the cube on his lips, she sensuously rubbed against it. He stuck his tongue out and very slowly, licked the ice, his eyes fixated on her face. She studied and watched him, mesmerised by the skilful way his tongue flickered and lips sucked on the slippery ice. It was as if he was indulging the nipple which the ice had just tasted._

"_Kiss me," she breathed out direly, her eyes flaming up with desire._

_That was all the incentive he needed before he finally lost all self-control and closed the gap between them, doing exactly what he was told to do. He threw all restraints out the window and succumbed to his lustful yearnings, crushing his lips to hers and finally tasting the sweetness of her mouth. He kissed her fiercely and devoured every inch of her, along with the ice._

_He rubbed her legs, then her waist and up the length of her slim torso. He buried his fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss as he did so. In the heat of the moment, Bulma grabbed his collar and yanked him closer. Their lips locked. They sucked, licked, and bit, completely oblivious to the crowd in the background. It wasn't until one of them realised that oxygen existed only did they part. Slowly and reluctantly, they pulled away from one another and drew in precious air, suddenly remembering how to breathe._

_Vegeta was the first to open his eyes. In his hazy state of mind, all he could see was a tunnel vision of the face in front of him. His lips found hers again, but gentler and less desperate this time even though he couldn't get enough. He feathered his kisses across her cheek and then stopped at her ear._

"_What say we… getta hell out of here?" he whispered huskily, his hands rubbing up and down her arms._

_She grinned at his neck and straightened his messy collar, "Some place quiet?"_

"_Some place like mine?" he purred._

"_Mmm. Sounds quiet enough."_

_He pulled back and smirked._

* * *

_Vegeta swerved into huge main porch of his condominium, thrusting and parking his car into the allocated space with ease and expertise. He quickly turned off the engine and climbed down, rounding the car before Bulma managed to alight. He nearly pried apart the passenger side door as he gently helped her down the side step. Once she did, they shared a glance and he slammed the door shut, decapsulating his car in the process and stuffing the capsule into his pocket. He took her hand and together, they strode towards the spanning double doors that'd take them to the main lobby._

_They treaded past the front desk with Vegeta in the lead. Two receptionists were on duty at that time, and the active one stood at attention upon hearing the main door open. He inclined his head in greeting after identifying Vegeta as a tenant._

"_Evening, Mr. Drosera," he welcomed and then swept his gaze over to the tenant's guest. It was protocol to recognise all incoming visitor. But when he met the eyes of the blue-haired woman, his own eyes widened. He began to stutter as he was uncertain if he had just seen the world's richest dame, "… Miss B-Bulma Briefs?"_

_Courteously, Vegeta nodded once at the receptionist. He kept on walking like a man on a mission, dragging the woman closely behind him. Bulma glanced at the receptionist, suppressing a smile as her face reddened. They ignored the front desk, striding past the lobby hastily as they continued straight on for the elevator that'd lead them to Vegeta's unit. _

_When the couple was out of sight, the receptionist smacked and jostled his inactive co-worker, who had his head laying on the desk the entire shift._

"_Dude, didja see that?!"_

"_See what? What?" the other guy stammered groggily. He was too startled to focus on his surroundings. When he finally regained his bearings, the first guy poked at the security camera monitor screen, pointing at the couple in elevator._

_Vegeta stood with his back facing the surveillance camera, placing his hands beside Bulma's head as he purposely hid her from the device's view. He knew that sleazy bastard of a receptionist would try to take a peek to confirm his doubts about Bulma being who she really was. It was a chance he wasn't willing to take._

"_What are you so paranoid of, blocking my face like that?" asked the blue-headed female. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer to her face._

_She teased him by rubbing the tender muscles around his nape. He resisted the urge to groan and pecked her once on the lips. Then he frowned and defended under his breath, "I'm not paranoid of anything. I just don't want the paparazzi crowding my doorstep in the morning."_

_Bulma bit her lip and watched his dark eyes, which softened the second she smiled. He pushed her up against the wall and let his hands wandered from her waist and down to her bottom. He gave her cheeks a squeeze and flashed a playful smirk before stooping a little lower to carry her up. She burst into giggles and wrapped her legs around his waist. He made sure her face was still hidden from the camera._

_But if a show was what those people wanted, then a show was what they'd be getting; just not all of it._

"_And besides, the 32nd floor is a long way up," he purred. One hand held her up by the waist while the other encircled her wrist. _

_He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed them. "Anything could happen to you," he teased, slowly trailing those kisses to her palm, wrist, and all the way to the hook of her elbow._

_She watched his lips make love to her hand and realised that her own lips were yearning for them. She swallowed dryly and took in sharp breaths, suddenly finding the air around her hot and stuffy. Eventually, his lips found hers and her heart pumped with excitement and anticipation. He kissed her slowly, using his tongue to play with her teeth and the insides of her cheeks. Their tongues met and he became impatient. He deepened the kiss and smothered her in a passionate lip-lock all the way up to the 32nd floor. Even as the elevator dinged, he didn't put her down but instead carried her all the way to his unit's entrance._

_They entered the living room very quietly. The whole house was dark save for the kitchen light that was softly illuminating the entire unit. Bulma stifled another giggle as her heel came loose and Vegeta shushed her, pressing two fingers on her lips. Perplexed, she stared at him quizzically and he nodded to the door that was at the end of the room. They listened in silence before a loud snore echoed from through the hallway._

_Suddenly, something sparked within Bulma as the thrill of getting it down and dirty with the presence of another nearby got to her. She swatted Vegeta's hand away and crushed her lips to his, pushing her tongue through his lips to ravage his mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair while, biting and sucking his lips to her heart's content. Vegeta, of course, returned the gesture with equal fervour. _

_He carried her into his room and quickly locked the door behind him. Without further ado, his legs moved towards the bed as he shrugged his jacket off impatiently. Bulma wasted no time in running her hands all over his body, purring and sending him a seductive grin, knowing perfectly well that would set him off even further._

_He snarled and dropped her on the bed, quickly removing his shirt in the process. She bounced and gave a short, feminine laugh, and before she knew it, he was on top of her. He kissed her deeply as his hands pushed their way under her dress, feeling the smoothness of her lengthy legs. Upon finding the thin strap of her g-string, he grinned at her mouth before playfully pulling it and letting it snap back on her skin. However, he continued his journey up and made a pit stop on the underside of her breasts, bunching up her dress as he did so. Then he pulled back a little, drawing Bulma up with him. She sat up and smiled at him as he knelt before her. He tugged on her attire as he silently asked for permission, to which she responded by lifting her hands into the air and allowing him to remove it._

_The garment fell to the floor a second later._

_Intrigued, he cocked his head from side to side as he ran his eyes over her nearly nude form. Her blush deepened and she attempted to cover herself by natural reflex. But he was having none of that even as he had anticipated her to make that move. So gently, he pushed her back down on the bed and pried her hands apart. She obediently kept them on her sides. He then placed a palm in between her breasts, feeling up the softness of her skin as his eyes skimmed every inch of her body appreciatively. He glanced back up and their eyes met, clear lust written within their depths. He bent down and pecked her on the lip._

"_You're so beautiful," he breathed out in awe, never before feeling his heart so constricted like this._

_Bulma bit her lip, smiling shyly up at him as she searched his eyes. All she could see was her own reflection in them, figurative and literally speaking. That notion only made her heart burst with emotions as she became overwhelmed by the obvious attraction he held for her. She, too, had never felt this way before._

"_Only to complement you," she teased and slowly, a conceited grin formed on his face._

_Vegeta buried his face in her neck and breathed in her scent, his tongue licking the skin and his lips sucking the area just over her pumping artery. He grinded once against her, and then twice, but he had to be patient, he had to wait. He needed to take this slow even though his erection was begging to be put to work. He sighed and then murmured into her ear, "You don't know how painful it is."_

"_So set it free," moaned Bulma, her nails curling on his arms as he tenderly nipped her earlobe._

"_In time," he replied, moving his kisses to her face._

"_But it's not fair," she whined, arching her back to push him off of her a little bit. She held his shoulders and their eyes met. She whispered, "You got to see me naked."_

"_I beg to differ," he countered with a smirk, capturing her lips once again. He breathed over her mouth, "So far, we're both topless. I'd say that's fair enough."_

_She pushed him off again and he frowned, meeting her blue eyes with confusion. She rubbed his chest slowly, fingering the chain of his dog tag before tugging it down and drawing his face closer. With a firm stare and a teasing smirk of her own, she stated, "Well, me being topless is a plus point. What's your excuse?"_

_He frowned harder at the sight of her smug-smirking face. Without another comment, he removed himself off of her and proceeded to undress. He stripped himself bare, revealing his eager and throbbing cock that sprang out like a jack-in-a-box and ready for action. Bulma gasped at the sight of his engorged member. His cock appeared to be rather large and it was rapidly hardening. It had to be at least seven or eight inches._

"_I told you it was rock-hard painful," he said with smirk, resuming his position on top of her. He attacked her neck, knowing full well by now that it was her most sensitive spot and that it'd stimulate her almost immediately._

"_It looks more like it gives pain," she moaned, sinking her nails into his shoulders as she fought the elation his lips was bringing her._

"_Do you like dessert?" he suddenly asked, exhaling hot breath down her neck. She murmured an agreement and without warning, he pulled down her g-string. It joined her dress in an instant as he leaned down to her nether region, smirking, "Me, too."_

"_Wait!" she panicked and locked her knees together. But as soon as she saw the confusion in his eyes, she quickly got up and he quietly followed suit. He lied on the bed as she pushed him down, straddling him as she did so. He grabbed her butt cheeks and gave them a squeeze, while she leaned in and gave him a soft, seductive kiss, gently nibbling and sucking his lips before sliding those kisses down his neck, chest, and stomach._

_In that moment, she seemed like she knew exactly what she was doing so Vegeta merely lay his head back down and enjoyed the sensation her tongue was giving him. He placed a hand on the top of her head and gave a quiet groaned as she licked his naval. He combed her hair with his fingers while his other hand gripped the sheets, using it as leverage as she built him up._

_She settled herself in between his thigh, her face hovering just above his abdomen as her hot breath licked his skin. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and he looked down. Their eyes met and she gave a small smile, her fingers moving at a slow pace as she stroked his cock. Gently and carefully she worked him as if he was delicate glass._

_Vegeta tightened his jaw. It was too good and yet too frustrating at the same time._

_Her other hand ran down his chest and her nails scraped lightly against his skin. At that, he groaned and took hold of her wrist, wishing she would cease her teasing. He brought her hand to his lips and sensuously sucked her fingertips, one-by-one._

_Bulma slid her pumping hand up and down faster in rhythmic intervals, covering each and every inch of his cock from the base to the tip. She started off gently and eventually got rougher and tighter by the seconds. Vegeta plopped his head back down and groaned as he struggled to keep his breathing steady and regular. He was in absolute ecstasy. His precum leaked from the head, puddling at the entrance of his member. If she didn't start taking things to the next level he'd literally explode, and it'd all be over before it even began._

_That frustrating notion lingered in his mind, and just as he thought things wouldn't escalate, Bulma took him in her mouth and he hissed. He lifted his head and watched her as she made love to him with her mouth. He caressed her cheek and then rubbed his hand softly against the top of her blue hair as she slid up and down on his cock, taking him a little deeper each time._

_Vegeta stifled another groan, at the same time loving the feel and heat of her mouth encompassing his entire length. She worked his shaft slowly and gently, causing the muscles on his thighs to constrict every few seconds. Occasionally, she'd look up at him with lustful eyes, licking his tip with her hot tongue as she teased him. Her tongue slid from tip to base, and then up again. Much to his pleasure, she'd repeat this several times, causing his ever-vigilant mind of a professionally trained soldier to wane drastically. Then all of a sudden, she topped it off by taking one of his balls into her mouth. He let out a loud moan, followed by a silent cuss._

_Taken aback by his reaction, Bulma paused. She was uncertain if she'd hurt him but Vegeta quickly got up and pulled her down to the bed, eager to have her beneath him. He pressed his lips to hers and gave her another one of his smouldering kisses. His tongue pushed past her lips which she gladly welcomed with her own. Slowly, he moved downwards, first attacking her neck and then her breasts. His callous palms pushed her mounds together as he nuzzled in between them, devouring each nipple alternately. Bulma ran her fingers through his hair and moaned breathily, not knowing how her soft sounds were fuelling him further._

_Nestled in between her knees, he shifted lower and she immediately tensed up. Vegeta crawled back up and laced his fingers with hers, giving them an assuring squeeze. "Just relax," he breathed out hotly at her lips before returning to his task, determined to get her off first using only his tongue._

_He pried her legs apart and hovered at her wet entrance, licking his lips and giving a crooked grin. His nostrils flared as her womanly scent wafted to his face, raising his sexual need even higher. She smelled pleasant. He rubbed her legs and she shivered from his touch. She knew full well what was coming next. Slowly, he leaned in and captured her clit with small, practiced licks of his wet tongue. She gasped lightly at the contact. He pulled back a little and slid a finger up and down her moist slit before finally taking her hot lips with his mouth. He sucked hard on them and alternated between licking on the outer edges and thrusting in between with his tongue._

_He closed his eyes in contentment and let out a quiet groan, absolutely loving how she tasted._

_Bulma squirmed and she clenched the sheets, revelling in the tiny sexual shivers that were coursing through her body. Vegeta looked up at her, allowing his eyes to take in the plain of her flat tummy and the roundness of her best twin assets. His fingertips feathered up her waist and to her chest. He fondled her breasts, pinching her nipples and eliciting appreciative moans from her lips._

_Her knees began to shake and her back arched in a sporadic manner. Vegeta pressed on her waist and pinned her down as he needed her to stay absolutely still for her orgasm. He sucked and licked her sex even fiercer, deliberately pushing her higher so that when she toppled, she would topple the hardest she had ever had._

"_Vegeta," she mewled softly, her breathing extremely quick and irregular._

_It was all the sound she could make before her climax finally hit. She came hard and strong like a rapid river, just as he had hoped she would. Her mouth constricted into a silent 'O' and her body trembled aggressively from the power of her orgasm. With much pleasure and self-satisfaction, Vegeta greedily lapped up her sodden slit, relishing in the intoxicating taste of her flowing juices. They tasted neutral with a slight salty base note, but it was all her._

_Pleased with his handiwork, he made his way up slowly with a lopsided grin. He licked her naval and trailed his kisses over her flat stomach, the crease between her breasts, and then finally, her neck. Still trapped in that hazy lust, Bulma moaned as he attacked her sensitive spot. She ran the tip of her toes over his calves and thighs, and then wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing his erection closer to her moist opening._

_Vegeta pumped his hardened member, rubbing his tip up and down her wet slit. He teased her further by pressing his head against her swollen, tender clit and she moaned again. He slid down to her moist opening, quietly preparing her for penetration. He gazed upon her flushed face and his brows creased at what he saw. She seemed disorientated – it was clear in her eyes and subtle hesitance. For some reason, he couldn't help but detect an unusual air coming from her. It was almost as if she was afraid. No woman anticipating sex radiated such an aura. He narrowed it down to the fact that she had just received an orgasm and was merely settling down but there was something else that seemed rather out of place. He could see it in her eyes._

"_I've never done this before," she said softly, confirming his suspicions._

_He stared at her for few long seconds before closing his eyes, his erection starting to limp. He huffed out quietly and frowned, resting his forehead on the spot just beside her head. He couldn't believe that he was about to claim her virginity without even knowing. He pressed his lips into a thin line, getting lost in his thoughts. He didn't even feel Bulma's fingers hesitantly touching his arms. He glanced back up at her and she averted her gaze. If she hadn't told him, he would have gone through it without knowing that she was ever clueless… or scared._

"_Are you mad at me?" she asked, her voice quiet and small._

_Perplexed, he asked back, "Why would I be mad at you?"_

_She turned her head away in shame and hurt, "You seem disappointed."_

_He pulled her back to face him and reassured, "No, I'm not. I am confused, though."_

_She looked at him inquisitively but gave no response. When he was met with silence, he went on to explain, awkwardly. "You… blew me… like you've done this before."_

_Bulma's eyes widened and she held back a smile. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting, so he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and pressed, "Well?"_

_She cleared her throat and rubbed his arms, holding his gaze as she revealed her dirty secret. Eventually, this little piece of information would need to be told, so why not now and why not him._

"_Lots of 'video research'… 'tools'…" she listed slowly, looking away as her blush deepened. She cleared her throat and then continued, "'Experiments and accurate imitations' to… feeling and getting it right… with plenty of free time to spare."_

_He smirked and suppressed a chuckle, highly amused by her explanation. _

"_What?" she asked as her cheek burned a brighter red, feeling a little annoyed; a little mocked._

"_It's sex, not science," he corrected._

_As true as his words may be, she wasn't going to accept his correction without refuting his claim and defending hers. But the second she her mouth parted, Vegeta silenced her with a deep kiss and all that projected out of her lips was a drawling moan. His kisses lightened into playful pecks and he gazed intensely into her lust-filled eyes._

"_We'll stop here," he nearly choked out, not really wanting the night to end, especially not when they were this far into the affair. But it had to be done. "Only when you're really ready," he said almost regretfully, already moving to get off of her._

"_No, wait," she stopped him, pulling him back to her and affirmed in a small voice, "I want this."_

_Vegeta stared at her expressionlessly though his mind was swirling with reasons of why she would want to through with it. "I'm not guilt-tripping you, Bulma. You don't have to-" _

"_You don't understand," she said breathlessly as she gazed intensely into his eyes. "I __**want**__ this."_

_He remained still and silent, not uttering a word as he knew not what to say to that. He questioned her with his eyes, prompting her to explain what it was when she said 'he wouldn't understand'._

"_I have met many men in my life," she started, garnering an inquisitive brow from her supposed lover. She wavered a little, feeling slightly uncomfortable for having to explain herself so personally but knowing that she had to. Her eyes lingered on his a little longer than they should before she whispered, "And I've never lain with one, much less went this far, but one thing's for sure; they have never made me feel the way you do."_

_He blinked and then murmured softly, "And how do I make you feel?"_

"_Look, I'm not stupid. They see me as nothing more than just a trophy and that's one of the reasons why I don't get out much. It's sad, really, but that's the harsh truth; a cruel reality," she explained, a tinge of unhappiness laced in her voice. She caressed his cheek and drew his face closer to hers as she whispered, "But you… you're unlike them."_

_She smiled at him, softly kneading the muscles in his arms, "You're strong; you're smart and kind. You see me as an equal, a person – a woman."_

"_You really think you've had me all figured out," he stated with a small smirk, his voice barely above a whisper and his eyes shone with amusement._

_She smiled warmly up at him and shook her head, feathering her dainty fingertips over his chest. She looked dreamily into his eyes and corrected, "No, I don't… but I think __**you've**__ had me all figured out."_

_His smirk faltered and he stared thoughtfully at her pretty face, seeing only truth in her eyes. He didn't know what it was that made her seemed so… out of this world to him. Was it her ocean eyes or her soft blue strands? Or maybe it was her attractive personality or remarkable intellect that captured his innermost interests. But whatever it was, he was completely smitten with her in and out, and damn it to hell if he didn't make her his. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted back her head slightly. Without another thought, he descended and crushed his lips to hers, and she eagerly accepted his hot, inviting tongue._

_His cock stiffened almost instantaneously, this time harder than before. Her fingers travelled down south for his shaft. When she stroked him, he joined her and let his fingers wrapped around her hand, helping her to build a steady momentum. Once he set a stable rhythm, he proceeded to massage her clit with his middle finger. His digit flirted fiercely with her sensitive nub, eliciting moan after moan from her coral peach lips. He then slipped two fingers into her, loosening her walls as he prepared her for real this time._

_She pulled him close, her eyes burning with desire. She breathed into his lips, "I want you."_

_He stared wordlessly at her before capturing her lips in another deep kiss. Tonight, he would make a woman out of her._

_He trailed his kisses down to her neck, sucking and licking her tender skin as he positioned himself for penetration. His tip hovered at her slit and he entwined his hands with hers, bringing them up over her head. Their gazes locked and with one swift thrust forward, he eased himself into her._

_She gasped, closing her eyes as they rolled backwards. He slid in and out of her slowly at first, gradually increasing his speed and causing her breathing to escalate into an irregular pace. She clung onto him like a leech as she rode the ecstatic waves of which he was giving. Moans and groans travelled between their lips and hot breaths washed across their naked skin as Vegeta moved above her, deeply, gently._

_He allowed her to get used to his size, delighting in the way her virgin walls constricted around him. He subtly wondered if she was even aware of it or how much it turned him on. He leaned forward, hooking her legs with his arms as he mounted her. His rhythm was steady but as the climax continued to build, he quickened his pace. He gazed down at her intensely and all he could see was his desire for her reflecting off her hooded lust-filled eyes._

_He took her sexually, carrying her away in the power of his masculine presence and consuming her entire being. As he drove into her, he devoured her with his strength, penetrating her to the deepest level of her soul where no man had done. She moaned erotically in his ears as she melted into her feminine softness that was anchored by him alone. His name rolled off her tongue and he closed his eyes in contentment._

"_Vegeta..."_

xxxx

_**Then I see your face, I know I'm finally yours**_

_**I find everything I thought I lost before**_

_**You call my name**_

_**I come to you in pieces, so you can make me whole**_

_**Pieces – Red**_

His eyes flew open and he sputtered, gasping for air as if an unseen hand had just pulled him out of a swirling ocean. He sprang up and clutched both his temples to subdue the ever-growing slicing pain in his head. When it finally subsided, he took in the familiar setting of his living room, simultaneously regaining his breathing. He shifted and sat properly on the couch, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. He wiped the sleep and sweat off of his face before running his fingers through his golden upswept hair, his lips scowling in frustration.

Slowly, he lowered his gaze to his pants. He rolled his eyes, unable to fathom the link between his body and subconscious mind. So the only way he could get a hard-on was to dream about a girl he hardly knew about. But on the contrary, perhaps he knew her too well.

While waiting for his hardness to soften, he replayed the dream over and over in his head as he hoped to catch something that didn't seem or feel right. And perhaps that was his problem – everything in that dream seemed and felt as right as his right hand. He huffed out, completely stressed out and annoyed. Dreams of the blue-haired woman were never this intense. At least they were never this real until he met Bulma. He scoffed and then chuckled softly, thinking that he must be going crazy, and over a female! In fact, that dream was so real it made his reality seemed surreal. But then again, what was his reality?

He wanted to dream tonight, didn't he? But somehow, he had gotten more than he had bargained for.

But whether it was mind tricks or his yearning for the truth, the fact remained that he fitted Bulma Briefs' face to the woman in his dreams. And what a perfect fit it was. _'So what now?'_ he asked himself. He leaned back against the couch and stared numbly at the ceiling. The room was dark and gloomy, intensified by the shadows that lurked within the blackness. It was depressing; a mirrored image of how he was currently feeling. He took a deep breath, willing his mind to dissect each and every piece of his dream, and then gluing them back together and hope that it'd all make sense.

That Nappa guy, without a doubt, was definitely No. 5 but he wasn't his prime issue at the moment.

He looked towards the main entrance of his apartment and eyed the door determinedly. The ghost of the pathway back to East City beckoned, teasing and urging him to seek out Bulma Briefs. He turned his head away and then looked towards the bedroom where his estranged wife was sleeping in, contemplating really hard.

'_Wife_,' he sneered at that thought and then snorted, looking back at the main door.

'_I feel more for a fantasy woman than the real thing behind that door_,' he analysed quietly, _'… but it isn't a fantasy, now, is it?'_

With that question lingering in his head, Prince got up and went to get dressed. Within minutes, he was out of the door and the underground lab, heading straight for East. He was hard set on getting that unanswered question answered.

* * *

_**0000 hours at the Presidential Suite 2, Eastern Palace Hotel…**_

Slender fingers flew nimbly across the keyboard, typing in familiar keywords like 'base camp explosion', 'missing persons', 'Vegeta Drosera', 'memory loss', and 'altered identities'. What was new in this search was 'Prince' and whatever that may tie him to the aforementioned keywords.

Bulma sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose as the outcome continued to prove futile. There seemed to have no breakthroughs in this. Prince was a ghost, just like Vegeta. Years of frustration continued to build up and her legendary temper got the best of her. Suppressing the urge to throw her laptop across the room, she furiously exited all browsers. Just as she did, the desktop background of their pre-wedding photo in black and white effect mocked her.

She stared at the image as a whole, remembering that precious moment as if it had happened only yesterday. A small smile crept to her face as her eyes skimmed over her image, appreciating her little black knee-high and strapless wedding dress. She recalled him grumbling about something, as usual, before he took a stand behind her and wrapped his arms loosely around her slim waist.

That day, he was clad in a black suit vest that overlapped a pristine white dress shirt, complemented by a pair of sleek black trousers and his good looks. However, he wasn't the happiest groom-to-be after being ordered around by the photography crew for three hours straight. He glared over her shoulder and into the camera as they had their photos taken but Bulma was almost certain that he was merely sneering at the photographer. She knew he wasn't too keen on the hot weather either but in all her years of knowing Vegeta, she also knew that he would do just about anything to please her. Regardless, the shot came out as one of the best among several hundred other pictures.

Bulma sighed sadly and cussed under her breath, "Damn you, Vegeta."

She shook her head and frowned as she reopened a new browser, determined to do a final research on Prince before she went to bed.

_**I was just guessing at numbers and figures, pulling your puzzles apart**_

_**Questions of science, science and progress**_

_**Do not speak as loud as my heart**_

_**Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me, oh, and I rush to the start**_

_**Running in circles, chasing our tails**_

_**Coming back as we are**_

_**The Scientist – Coldplay**_

* * *

He hovered a safe distance in the dark night sky as he peered through the glass of the white French doors of her suite bedroom. He blinked softly with a thoughtful look on his face as he took in all that she was currently doing. The tip of his shoes touched down lightly on the balcony ledge and he crouched in the darkness. He inwardly commended on his colour choice of black garments as they helped him stay perfectly hidden. Quietly, he watched her through the spanning picture window. She looked exactly like the woman he had just dreamed about. She was currently hunched over her laptop on the bed and was typing away furiously with a serious expression. He could tell that she was exhausted. Weariness was written clearly in her eyes.

Bulma told herself that she would spend another ten minutes or so before she turned in for the night, but she knew ten minutes would always lead up to at least a half hour. Eventually, she began to zone out and stared sightlessly at the computer screen. Words were becoming blurry lines and her eyes started to water. She rubbed them and her senses fully returned almost immediately. And the moment they did, she froze and straightened up, her breath hitched in her throat and hairs stood on their ends.

She shifted uncomfortably as the foreboding feeling of being watched grew. Her eyes darted towards the bedroom door. When she saw that it was still locked, she sighed a little. However, she couldn't shake off the feeling that someone could be out there in the living room. She blamed it on too much television shows in one seating but one couldn't be too careful, especially when one was the CEO of a multi-billion organisation.

She frowned and swallowed, realising that while her overactive imagination could play tricks on her, it was not easy for someone to break in to her suite. It would take a miracle worker or a really skilful hacker to do that. And besides, she remembered latching the main doors earlier. With that suspicion out of the way, this meant that there was only one other vantage point left.

She remained perfectly still and let her eyes roll towards the direction of the French doors that led to the balcony. From where she was, it was rather difficult to see what was lurking outside in the dark but it was painfully obvious that whatever was out there could see her clearly. Her breathing quickened and her heart paced. The feeling of being watched was becoming heavier as her paranoia and panic began to kick in. She eyed the unlocked balcony doors and calculated the number of steps the perpetrator would need to take before reaching her. Her eyes darted towards the box of capsules on the vanity where she kept her other belongings, guns included.

Her rational side debated with her, strongly doubting that there'd be a person lurking out there and waiting for her. The 36th floor was a long way up especially if one attempted to access it via rock climbing style. In other words, it would be highly impossible with no pun intended. Besides, her room faced the main road so people would surely notice if someone had been trying to access the hotel by way of walls. Nevertheless, she decided to see for herself.

So she climbed down the bed, clad only in a dark blue mid-thigh sheer nightdress.

Prince watched her tip-toe towards the door and he gripped the ledge by reflex action. Slowly, she slithered nearer and closer, her eyes vigilantly scanning the darkness on the outside. Her fingers reached out for the elegant handle and she pushed it down, causing a clicking sound which indicated that the door was being opened. In that split second, he tumbled backwards like a scuba diver and hid by the side of the balcony.

Bulma opened the door and a high suction of wind burst through her and flitted into the room. She inhaled sharply at the sudden chill. Her feet touched the cold tiles as she looked towards the other end of the balcony that stretched up to at least three feet. She walked towards that end and then turned to stare through the large picture window that showcased the vanity and the bed where she was occupying earlier. '_I_ _should close the curtains once I'm inside,_' she thought to herself.

Other than the fact that anyone else from surrounding buildings could very well spy into her room through this picture window, Bulma found nothing out of the ordinary. Apart from that speculation, the place was just too quiet but the silence was something that she wouldn't complain about. She moved towards the ledge and carefully craned her head outwards as she looked down. Satisfied that it was due to the lack of cars and people on the streets that contributed to the silence, she turned to stare at the sky.

It was dark, gloomy, and cloudless, just like her current state of mind.

Prince pressed his back against the wall, having chosen the perfect blind spot to be in as he carefully watched her from below. She rested her palms flat on the ledge and searched the sky, zoning out once more. He floated towards her a little more to get a closer look. Her hand reached up to her neck and fingered her ring-like necklace. His browed stitched together as her fingers twirled the pendant around before clutching it protectively.

He listened to her breathe. It was heavy and deep. If he spread his senses further, he could almost hear her steady heartbeat. He studied her pretty features from this angle, documenting her defined jaw line, the high structure of her cheekbones, her pouty coral lips, and the way slivers of moonlight highlighted her turquoise hair.

For once, he felt serenity; something which he hadn't felt for as long as he could remember. He rested his head on the wall and simply took in her faint scent while listening to her make the smallest of sounds. The comfortable silence and her close proximity overwhelmed him. His eyes fluttered shut, amazed by the revelation that he liked every bit of this very much. He could only imagine how it'd be and feel like if she was in his arms.

"I know you're out there," she whispered, and to this, his eyes flew open alarmingly.

* * *

**I'm torn between being pleased and displeased with this chapter. I hope you guys liked it.**

**Also, I apologise for cutting the lemon short as I have something better in store for this couple. This surprise will only be revealed after Legendary Evolution is finally over and done with.**

**Lastly, sorry if there were mistakes spotted. Editing this many words has made me forget how to English.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Do drop me a review!**


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